


Guide her with your grace to a place where she'll be safe

by liliumweiss



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Enchanted Forest, Captain Duckling, F/M, KnightRook, No Gothel fraud
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-06-29 07:45:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 38,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15725037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liliumweiss/pseuds/liliumweiss
Summary: Before Killian Jones climbed the tower, he was a man seeking revenge, but when he meets a blonde goddess at the top he falls into her light - and into her long, long hair. But when you enter the witch's den, you play a dangerous game, one that breaks your heart first, and then poisons it. For Killian Jones, though, it's worth it.A Captain Swan (NO Gothel fraud) KnightRook AU





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is a four-part fic plus an epilogue which had actually started out as a OS but once I hit the 10k words mark and I wasn't nearly finished with the first "act", I had to do the math again.
> 
> I'll say this right now: this is a Captain Swan (or Captain Duckling, more likely) fic and a Knightrook one. It's my way of dealing with what happened in 707 to Wish!Killian and that I didn't like one bit. So if you don't like Knightrook, that's the door, goodbye, I don't want hate on here, especially since it's my way to cope with what happened. I believe in the "don't like, don't read" rule so if you just want to drop hateful comments, stay away from here.
> 
> This said, this is a kind of canon divergence slash Enchanted Forest AU where the curse never happened and the Evil Queen is trying to get her magic back 20 or so years later in the way we've seen in the Wish Realm, hence Killian - he'll always be Killian, no matter what world he's in, no matter which version of him - going in search of the flower.
> 
> Since it's a Captain Swan fic and it's my way of "changing" what happened to Wish!Killian, there's NO rape involved, Emma IS NOT Gothel and that (b)witch will appear very little. And their daughter will be the Alice we came to know in s7 because I love her so much, I love Knightrook so much and I think she'd be perfect as CS' daughter - and her name, too, because yes I hate what they gave to CS' daughter at the end, don't hate me, this is my opinion here.
> 
> The title is from The Prayer by Céline Dion, straight from Quest for Camelot and I wrote this story with it on repeat.
> 
> There won't be regular updates even though I started it when 707 aired, but I know where it's going, I have it all planned and alla I need is to write it. Besides, this holds a special spot in my heart so I will finish it - as I will my other fics, of course.
> 
> Ah, the story might be M-rated, but only for chapter 2.
> 
> I apologize for my mistakes - especially when it comes to "hair" which I know in English it's singular but I still might have slipped somewhere.
> 
> Come say hi on my tumblr, also because I made an edit for which I thought I lost my eyes :'D Enjoy!

Chapter 1

 

He stumbled forward, feet tangling up in… was that _hair_?

Killian frowned, confused while pans and pots jingled rocking against each other. He had dealt with a lot of traps in his long life, but that, that was new. He looked up, noticing how the long the hair was. _Who the bloody hell has this much hair?_

The place was cosy enough, bright and with paintings on the walls – childish paintings sometimes, but he found himself following a very beautiful beanstalk with his eyes. It seemed real, climbing up the wall and reaching the top of the tower. There were other figures all around him but he couldn’t focus on them because he saw a shadow moving, someone lurking in the darkness.

«Who’s there? Who are you?»

«Who are _you_?» called a feminine voice. It was strong, but he could hear a clear hint of true fear.

He stepped forward, mindful of the bloody hair, trying to catch a glimpse of the girl, sword drawn in front of him, a part of him, the same one that just knew that a storm would hit even with apparently a sunny day ahead, telling him that she wasn’t a real danger.

«Don’t come any closer,» she warned him, a frying pan pointed at him. He would’ve laughed if it wasn’t that painful. She was a harmless girl who was still trying to protect herself. And rightly so, since he was a pirate. Still, she didn’t have to fear for her safety or her virtue, he wasn’t interested in that.

«Love,» he began, trying to charm his way into her graces. He said he wasn’t interested in her virtue, not that he didn’t know how to use his devilishly handsome face to get what he wanted, after all. «I don’t mean any harm.»

She scoffed. «Nice way to show it, the pointed end of your sword is still pointed at me.»

Killian bit his tongue hard to keep himself from reply with an innuendo that would have him on the floor with a lump on his head. So he sheathed his sword, spreading his arms in surrender.

The girl hummed, the only thing hit by the light the hem of her white dress. Slowly, she made her way towards him. Killian lifted his gaze slowly, following the darkness retreating from the light until blue met green and he was at loss.

She was the most beautiful creature he’d ever laid his eyes on, a nymph, a _siren_. Green eyes like the fields his mother talked about when he told his brother and him tales of elves and fairies, a little, graceful nose and pink lips he imagined would be heavenly soft under his own. And her hair, her long, long, _very_ long hair, as golden as the sun cascading on her shoulders in soft waves.

«Killian Jones at your service, milady,» he said breathless, bowing slightly the moment he could manage to make his brain work again, «but most people have taken to call me by my more colourful moniker, _Hook_.» He locked his eyes with hers again, a part of him ready to bare his soul to her. «What’s your name, love?»

She bit her lip, and he glanced at her mouth for a brief moment. «Emma, my name is Emma.»

Killian smiled softly, something he hadn’t done in a long time. «It’s a beautiful name for a lovely lass such as yourself.»

She grimaced, as if that wasn’t something she wanted to hear. «It’s just a name,» she mumbled, the frying pan still clutched tightly in her hands.

«I beg to differ,» Killian said, «a name has a power amidst its letters, and even if I don’t believe in love anymore, I know the name a mother gives to her children is always, always filled with love.» He was surprised with himself, it wasn’t something he usually did, talking about his mother. He didn’t even think about her anymore, but he knew her love for Liam and himself was true.

He knew the look in her eyes, though, he knew she’d been abandoned in a way, that she longed to go home, or to find one. His heart skipped a beat, sensing in her a kindred spirit in a way no one had been since he’d lost Liam, since he’d lost his own home. Not even Milah had made him feel that way.

He winced, his eyes widening at the thought. No, no, that part of him was certainly wrong. He loved Milah, he was going to avenge her. But would it really be a good thing? Even his crewmen whispered, careful of not being close to him, but he knew, he knew they thought she had turned him into a darker version of his self. Killian curled his hand into a fist, remembering one sentence that still haunted him.

« _Captain Hook was born the moment he decided to hear Milah’s pleads, not when he lost his hand_.» Worse than that, that part of him that wanted to answer Emma’s call agreed with that phrase.

Emma was looking at him, trying to read him. «What are you doing here?» Straight to the point, it seemed.

«I’m searching for magic,» he replied simply. Still, he felt a sense of uneasiness washing over him as he saw her eyes lose that little spark of hope he hadn’t seen until now. His heart ached and he couldn’t – wouldn’t – explain himself why.

She moved, grabbing a small chest from a table, art supplies on it, clean brushes in a jar with buttercups painted on it. They seemed real. «There isn’t magic in here anymore, the flower has lost all its powers long ago. The witch made sure I couldn’t revive it. She left it as a reminder of my imprisonment.»

In the chest there was a withered yellow flower; if it were blooming it would’ve been beautiful. «I don’t understand,» he whispered, «I was assured there was magic here.»

«There is,» Emma confirmed, «but not in the tower.» _Not anymore_ were the unspoken words he heard still.

«Why are you here?»

She stiffened, slamming the lid shut. «Why would you care? You’re here for magic, I can’t give you any, you must find it yourself. You’re not here for me.» _No one ever came for me._ His chest hurt so much, as if his heart had been ripped out of his chest and turned into dust in front of his very eyes.

Even if he didn’t know Emma at all, Killian couldn’t help but feel the urge to free her, to make her see the world, to not let that tower to be her prison anymore. _You’re bloody going out of your mind, Jones_. It wasn’t certain she wasn’t some witch ready to trick him.

Still… she was an open book, and her pages were filled with anguish and loneliness. She was hopeless, lost as he was even in that moment.

«There’s a garden nearby, the flower grows there but it only blooms when it hears someone sing. I don’t know why, so don’t ask me, and don’t ask me what song to use either.»

Killian cocked a brow. «Singing?» he asked in disbelief, slightly amused. Emma shrugged, and he knew she wouldn’t answer any of his questions on the matter. But he had to ask one more thing. «What did you mean when you said that this… _witch_ made sure you couldn’t revive the flower? Is there another way?»

Her fists clenched at her sides, the white gown now wrinkled. «I had magic, once, suffice for you to know that.»

Now, all that Killian could feel was rage. Not toward Emma, she wasn’t lying when she said there wasn’t magic in the tower, but toward the witch because she stole not only Emma’s freedom, but also a part of her. He knew how it felt, he’d been robbed both of his freedom and a part of him, too.

«I’ll help you get out of this bloody tower, Emma. This I vow to you.»

Blue met green, shock-filled green irises staring at him as if he was a ghost, and in that moment he thought he could’ve been one, her gaze almost seeing right through him, through his heart, his very soul.

«You won’t succeed,» she whispered lowering her gaze, eyes looking at her feet, the tips of her shoes peeking out from under the dress. They were white as well. Killian smiled.

«Why, someone else tried to free you before?» He knew no one had, he was probably the only other human being she saw in _years_. That made him frown: how many years had she been imprisoned in there? Or was had she been raised in the tower? More questions he would never have an answer to.

Emma shook her head vehemently, long blonde hair shaking. It created a strange effect: everything jingled slightly under its movements, as if her gesture had affected all of it. «I can’t leave, Killian,» she whispered so softly he wasn’t sure he’d heard her. She’d used his real name, something no one had done in a very long time. But it wasn’t just that, it was the way she said his name that made his heart break. It had seemed like a prayer.

«I will find a way,» he vowed, placing his hand on her shoulder, his fingers brushing her hair. The pots jingled slightly again.

She tried to smile, a sad smile gracing her lips, more like a frown, but the real change was in her eyes. He saw a spark.

A spark of hope.

* * *

 

He’d sung his mother’s lullaby. He was surprised, he still remembered the lyrics. But, more than that, he still remembered his mother’s voice as she sang it to him, to Liam. Liam had sung to him too, sometimes Killian joined him during the stormy nights on the ship they were enslaved on, trying to calm down their thunderous heartbeats.

Still, he had the flower, and that meant that he could go seek revenge on Rumplestiltskin, he could finally avenge Milah… So why was he feeling so empty? For centuries, he’d been filled with desire for revenge, and now he just… couldn’t.

He looked up at the tower. He could see shadows moving, a faint melody coming out of the window. Emma was singing, he realized in awe. If she was beautiful – and she was more than that, she was heavenly – her voice was angelic.

No, he couldn’t betray her, he just couldn’t. He knew he wouldn’t come back once faced the crocodile, if he went on with his revenge now, he wouldn’t be able to save Emma. And she deserved to be happy, to be free.

He brought his hand to his chest, where the flower was hidden in a pocket of his coat. He would give the Evil Queen what she wanted and he would get her help in his quest.

Not bothering looking if Smee was following him, Killian turned his back to the tower, the sound of Emma voice the only thing he heard as he made his way toward the town, ready to make a new bargain with the Evil Queen. One that didn’t end with his death, but his freedom.

* * *

 

Killian Jones had been a violent man. He’d robbed, fought, killed a lot of people during his life. The rage he was feeling then, though, was nothing compared to what moved him right now. No, this was pure, blind fury.

The Evil Queen didn’t have magic anymore, that he knew, of course, but she didn’t have a spell or something he could use either. The only sorceress still alive she knew had disappeared from this earth to search for her missing daughter. He had wondered briefly if Emma could’ve been that daughter, but it seemed unlikely.

Still, she knew magic, and after a brief tour to the tower – he’d been careful not to alert Emma of their presence – Regina had said that the spell was so dark and twisted she wouldn’t have been able to break it even if she still had had her magic.

True, she also said that _maybe_ True Love’s kiss could break it, but she wasn’t sure. There was something in the spell that made it unlike anything she’d ever seen before. The witch was powerful, even more powerful that she was, and having her as an enemy wasn’t wise. He didn’t care, though, he needed to save Emma.

He would find a way.

But first, he had to tell Emma that he would try again and again. He couldn’t let go, he just… couldn’t.

She was on her bare tiptoes, facing the wall while she painted something he couldn’t see, lot of blue and green around her and on her gown. She was humming, moving – no, not moving, _swaying_ – on the thick wooden beam as if she was dancing all by herself. His heart sank when he wondered how many times she’d done that.

He also noticed her hair, now not all around the tower, but a little loosely braided down her back, swinging with every movement she made, and pooling on the floor right under her. It was beautiful, like a waterfall of pure liquid gold, something his greedy self would’ve wanted to take away from her once upon a time.

Sitting on the windowsill with his leg spread, elbows propped up on his knees, he kept watching her. In a way, she was freeing herself, she was allowing her imagination to run free, to move her hand and paint what she’d never seen before or what she remembered. He felt the urge to make her see whatever her heart desired, to make her see the whole world.

«You know,» he heard her say, startling him, «I remember the sea.» There was longing in Emma’s voice, the desire of being able to see it again. «Actually, I was born in a palace by the sea, my room had this balcony and I used to spend hours looking at the sea, at the horizon and the ships coming into port. Now, all I can see are trees.»

Killian stood, walking towards her, eyes focused on the painting she’d revealed when she’d put the last touch on the black flag of the pirate ship. A pirate ship that looked exactly like the _Jolly Rogers_. It was almost impossible, but somehow she’d managed to paint her perfectly.

Then, it hit him. «You’re a princess?»

«I _was_ ,» she replied hastily, as if she was angry with the word itself. «I’m not sure I am anymore. I am not.» Slowly, Emma moved on the beam, her hair moving with her, following her every movement. She jumped on the floor with grace, not bothered by the height as if she’d done that more times than she could think of. She probably had.

Killian, though, was still confused. He couldn’t help but wonder why they didn’t search for her. Or did they? Worse, had there been a deal with the witch? He knew some parents didn’t love their children, and selling them was nothing new for him, but Emma… Emma wanted to go home, she wanted to return to someone who deeply cared for her.

Sitting down on a chair, legs bent and feet under her, Emma looked like a child. She couldn’t be more than twenty, but she seemed so much younger. «When I was born, the Evil Queen was about to cast the dark curse but somehow my parents defeated her, I don’t know how, but they did, and we lived happily for years. But, on the morning of my eighth birthday, the witch came and kidnapped me before my parent’s eyes. She is powerful, even more powerful than Regina ever was, almost as powerful as the Dark One. And greedy of power.»

Killian was still standing behind her, the story that was coming out from her lips unbelievable. The Evil Queen wasn’t that much old, he couldn’t believe that she’d been without her powers for twenty years or so. And then there was the Dark One. He gaped at her, part of him glad she couldn’t see him, his eyes darkening with thoughts of revenge. She knew him, or knew of him.

«She brought me here, saying she needed more power and that the product of True Love was a very powerful source of magic.»

Her eyes were closed, and when he took a few steps towards her, he saw tears imprisoned in her dark gold eyelashes. He longed to wipe them away, but he couldn’t bring himself to touch her. He clenched his fist at his side, his anger making him want to destroy everything around him. Emma had been used by the witch, she was _still_ being used by her, and didn’t have any chance of freedom.

«She stole my magic, it now flows through her veins, but she still needs me alive, or my magic will die with me.» There was emptiness in her words, as if she was empty, and he knew that, without her magic, she _felt_ empty.

He’d come to loathe magic, but the rational part of him knew that some people had white magic and, like the fairies, didn’t use it to hurt people. Suddenly, he remembered Tinkerbell: she’d been stripped of her magic, just like Emma.

«Oh, and let’s not forget about the hair,» Emma laughed bitterly, shaking her head. «She’s ordered me to not cut it. Ever. I tried, once, to cut it, but the blade of the knife I used just turned into dust the moment it touched my hair. I don’t even know if it’s about my magic or some kind of weird… obsession she has.»

Kneeling in front of her, Killian covered her hands with his over her lap, the dress now smeared with blues and greens. He looked up at her, pure rage towards the witch flashing in his irises, determination, too.

«Before coming here last night, I had made a deal with the Evil Queen,» Killian said slowly, watching as she opened her eyes, fear washing through her. She moved back, removing her hands from under his. He wished it didn’t hurt like it did. «She wants to go to a place where she can have her magic back, to Oz. I won’t do that, not now that I know what she did to you.» Emma was still looking at him with tears in her eyes, afraid of being not only the target of the witch, but Regina’s as well. His heart was about to break. «Without her magic I can easily defeat her, she won’t find someone who’ll help her, she has nothing to give to buy herself a passage to Oz.»

It took one moment to see a change in her expression. Now there wasn’t just fear, there was anger, too. «What’s your price?» she spit out with so much venom his heart could’ve been poisoned with it at the mere sound of that question.

«Revenge,» he finally said, his eyes looking away from her. «A crocodile took someone very important away from me, he deserves to pay.»

«Then why are you still here? You have the flower, go.»

Dumbfounded, Killian looked at her, eyes blown wide at her words. «I can’t,» he heard himself say, and in that moment he knew he _really_ couldn’t. «I vowed to you I would find a way to free you, I won’t betray you.»

She shook her head, if her hair was still everywhere it would’ve cause the pots and pans to make a terribly loud sound. «You’re already betraying your first vow, Killian.»

At that, Killian frowned. Yes, she was right, he had vowed to Milah he’d never stop to seek revenge on the crocodile. So why didn’t that bother him as much as the thought of breaking the vow he made to Emma did?

Incapable of finding an answer to that question, Killian just shook is head. «The Dark One is immortal, I can defeat him after I free you.»

It wasn’t illogic, after all. For a brief moment, he wondered if the crocodile would’ve been able to break the spell on the tower, but it didn’t last long. The Dark One was greedy as well, he’d find a way to take Emma’s magic from the witch and have it within himself. He couldn’t risk that, he couldn’t risk Emma’s life.

He watched as she frowned slightly. «The Dark One?» Emma asked slowly, more relaxed than before, and he used that moment to take her hand in his once again. «He’s… last I knew of, he was imprisoned in one cell of my castle. And he has been in there since before Regina tried to cast the curse.»

 _That_ the queen did not share with him. His eyes flashed with anger, but it wasn’t about him or the queen, now, it was about Emma. «Good, so he’ll be there when I’ll take you back to your parents.» He forced a smile, his thumb caressing the soft skin of her hand.

For the first time since he’d entered the tower that night, he was graced with her smile. It shined brighter than a star.

* * *

 

The tower stood at the center of the clearing, wrapped in the darkness, the only light coming from the window. He’d been back from Agrabah for a day and a half spent tending the ship, but now his only focus was Emma.

Almost two months had passed since he’d left her. The Evil Queen had been infuriated and had attempted to choke him with her magic. Thankfully, she still didn’t have any. Killian hadn’t told her the reason why he’d broken the deal, Emma’s identity still safe from the person who’d tried to hurt her. It was strange to think that it was all connected, but that was the Enchanted Forest, stranger things had happened.

Emma had said that the witch came the first day of every month, mostly to infuriate her, gloating about how she used her powers. She didn’t bring her any food, Emma had a magical stock of nourishments that never ended and water, too, but mostly, she wanted books. Not even clothes or jewels – no, she longed for knowledge. And maybe a bit of romance, too.

In one night, he came to know that she loved romantic tales, something about immortal love that called to her and she couldn’t just resist it. She loved poetry, too, but not every poem pleased her. And, of course, she loved to paint, but he couldn’t bring her anything in that regard, no new brushes or colours.

What he could bring her, though, was a book he’d never heard of, something he knew she would love. And bad news.

He sighed, dropping his shoulders. He was supposed to find an answer in Agrabah, and oh, he did find one, but not the one he was seeking. And he couldn’t bear to see her eyes saddened by what he would say to her.

When he reached the top of the tower, Emma was nowhere to be seen. Killian felt fear grabbing his heart and hurried inside, searching for her but not daring to call her name. He suddenly saw her hair on the floor at the foot of the bed right in front of him and someone under the thick blankets.

 _Oh_. He blushed, the tips of his ears surely red from embarrassment. Of course. It was quite late, probably one in the morning, but he couldn’t stay away from the tower any longer.

He left the satchel on one of the tables, then folded his leather coat on the back of the armchair before grabbing a book from the library. There weren’t many books, and most of them were tragedies as if the witch could sense what Emma loved just to take it away from her.

Quietly, in order to not awake her, he settled himself on the armchair, suddenly tired. It had been a long journey, his stay in Agrabah too long, but he had to help the princess and her husband – what exactly was he? A sultan? Prince consort?

Unfortunately, his help had been for nothing. There weren’t any more genies that could grant Emma a wish, the only one she would make. He’d failed her, but he wouldn’t stop fighting. After all, a man unwilling to fight for what he wanted, deserved what he got. And he wanted Emma’s freedom.

His next trip would be to Arendelle. He’d heard about its trolls, and even if the kingdom was slowly recovering from a war with the Southern Islands, he’d gladly face the ire of hundreds of ice queens in order to speak with the trolls.

He wasn’t even paying attention to what he was reading anymore, and soon sleep claimed him, dragging him into a slumber of darkness.

Next thing he knew, a thick woollen blanket had been draped over him and the room was filled with the scent of something freshly baked. He recognized the unmistakable flavour of chocolate.

«Good morning, sleeping beauty,» Emma called from behind him, cheerfully. Killian hated himself in that moment, her good mood wouldn’t last long after he told her what he’d learnt in Agrabah.

«I wonder how you always know when I’m here even if you’re not looking at me,» he mumbled, standing up and making his way towards her. She was standing near the stove, her fingers smeared with chocolate as she tried to bake some cookies, her hair glowing as if she had a halo on her head. She seemed an angel. _She is_.

Emma shrugged. «You are just very loud when it comes to climb my tower,» she said arranging the cookies she’d just baked on a plate. They were a little burned around the edges, but otherwise they seemed good.

Killian forced himself to not reply with a saucy remark, she probably didn’t even know her words were affecting him. He hated himself for it, but he couldn’t deny that Emma was beautiful, every man would’ve done unspeakable things just to lay with her once. But Emma deserved more than a one-handed pirate with a drinking problem to be her first. So why the thought of her with another man infuriated him so much?

«And then there’s the mirror. » She gestured to the tall mirror that reflected the armchairs and the small table in front of them.

«Oh,» he said, flushing slightly. Brushing off his embarrassment, he stole a cookie from the pile, its heat nearly burning his fingertips. _Bloody hell_. «They seem edible.»

Gasping indignantly, Emma threw him a glare. «They are, sorry if they don’t reach your standards,» she grumbled, and he knew he’d touched a sore spot. In fact, he’d seen her pantry, he’d seen fruit and vegetables, a little bit of dried meat and any kind of fish to speak of. Besides, he knew she had learnt to cook all by herself, without anyone but herself to give her tips or teach her. Killian sadly wondered how many times she’d burned her meal or forced herself to eat it even if it was disgusting.

«My apologies, love,» he said ashamedly, biting down on the cookie. It was good, _really_ good, more than he had imagined. A moan escaped his lips, and if he saw her cheeks redden, he didn’t say anything, simply smiling to himself.

With a wink, he grabbed another cookie and made his way to his satchel, grabbing it with his hook. «I’ve brought something for you. It’s not much, but I didn’t want to come here empty handed.» It was absurd, Captain Hook was embarrassed. He didn’t remember the last time he’d felt like this, heart beating fast and cheeks flushed and hurting from the smile he had on his face. It definitely was when he was in the Naval Academy, when he’d started to notice lasses for the first time in his life.

Emma was silent, eyes trained on the satchel dangling from his hook. She was surprised and maybe even a little overwhelmed, it had been years since someone had gifted her something. Slowly, she reached him, grabbing the satchel and keeping it close to her chest for a brief moment, looking at him as if he was something magical, a miracle. His lips parted, and he felt the desire to kiss her. It was wrong, he was a pirate, she was a princess, but to his heart it didn’t matter.

Before he could do something he’d later regret, Emma opened the satchel, revealing small bags of exotic spices, a vial of perfume and a book. The latter had a blue cover and golden designs on the back, the title one he’d made sure she hadn’t.

« _The Arabian Nights_ ,» she read aloud, frowning, «I’ve never heard of it.» She seemed so lost his heart hurt. He was about to say something when she lifted her eyes, looking at him with a soft smile. «Will you read it to me?»

Her question took him by surprise. When he was little, his mother and then Liam used to read to him but he never had someone to read to. Until now, it seemed. And he couldn’t – wouldn’t – deny her anything.

«Of course, love, I’ll be glad to do it,» Killian said, fingers itching to caress her cheek. In a way, he was glad he was still holding the cookie, but oh, how he wanted to feel how soft her skin was under his fingertips.

«Good,» she smiled, cocking a brow just a second later. «Did you bring me a vial of perfume because I stink?»

At that, he laughed heartily, joined by her not a moment later. «No, love, of course not,» he said, eyes flashing as he leaned towards her and inhaled her scent. _Gods, magnificent_ , he thought with a shiver. «You _definitely_ do not stink, but this is for, ah, your bath.» He would’ve gladly scratched behind his ear, but he still had that bloody cookie between his fingers and so he popped it into his mouth, chewing slowly and averting his gaze from her but not before seeing her cheeks tinging a deeper red. He did not wonder if that flush extended to other parts of her body as well. He didn’t.

«Thank you,» she murmured, quickly going to put the vial on her vanity and the spices where she kept the few other she was given by the witch. «You didn’t have to, of course, but thank you.»

Killian clenched his jaw. «I’m afraid I had to, Emma,» he said following her with his eyes.

«No, you didn’t,» she bit out sternly, turning to face him, her shoulders tense. «I know why you did it, to try and cheer me up because you didn’t find a way to break the spell. And I don’t blame you, Killian, at all. On the contrary, I must thank you. You… you did so much for me, you went to Agrabah for me when you didn’t have to.» She lowered her gaze to her feet. «You came back.» _You came back to me_.

His heart shuddered in his chest. He came back to her when he could’ve never returned, turning his back to her without a second thought. Emma must have passed many a day during his absence in fear that he wouldn’t come back.

«I’m here, now, Emma,» Killian said gently, vowing with those words that he would always return to her.

Emma locked her eyes with his, green irises digging their way into his bared soul, and smiled. «Good,» she repeated making his heart wanting to explode. Maybe it already had.

Not more than ten minutes later, he found himself sitting on the hearthrug, the fire cracking gently in the background as his voice filled the room, Emma tucked into his side with a blanket draped over them. Two mugs of hot chocolate sat on the small table; next to them, the plate of cookies was already almost empty.

He had read no more than twenty pages when her voice interrupted him. «When will you set sail?»

Pursing his lips, he kept his gaze on the book. «I want to make it to Arendelle before winter comes. A week from now the _Jolly_ will be fully restocked and ready for the journey.»

She nodded against his chest, the tips of her fingers slowly drawing the flowers on his vest. «We still have time,» he heard her mutter; time for what, he wouldn’t know. For him to search for a way to break the spell? For them to spend some more time together? Was it a week enough?

This last question surprised him, because no, a week with Emma wasn’t nearly enough. He was afraid an entire lifetime with her wasn’t enough, and that thought scared him. Had he really forgotten about Milah? About his revenge? For Emma?

«Aye, love, we still have time,» he murmured pressing his lips to her hair, knowing in his heart that now Emma mattered more to him than his revenge ever would.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is rated M, ladies and gentlemen.

Chapter 2

 

Four days. Four days he had waited before going to Emma. Four days passed drowning himself in work – and rum. Too much rum, even for him; his liver was going to kill him from the inside.

This time he had actually found answers, just not the one he actually wanted. _Bloody trolls_ , he cursed reaching the top of the tower and swinging his legs over the windowsill.

He found Emma quickly – he now used the mirror, too – curled op on one armchair, not one but two blankets wrapped around her. He frowned for a minute, wondering if she was sick, and then remembering the icy wind that was coming in from the window. The window she always left open. That she always left open for _him_.

Quietly, he shut the window close. «You could’ve closed it,» Killian muttered once he’d reached her.

The small smile she gave him warmed his heart more than a hundred fires could have ever done. «Then how could have I listened to your curses while climbing my tower?» she joked, her feet playfully moving under the blankets.

«Those words aren’t fit for a lady’s ears,» he grumbled, chastising himself for his lack of good form. Had he still been in the Navy, he’d have been punished for such poor manners.

A snort escaped Emma. «I’m afraid I’m no lady.» Strangely enough, her words weren’t filled with sadness anymore, but playful. He was delighted, but it still wasn’t right, she was supposed to joke about it in her palace, dressed as a true Princess, with a tiara on her head. Still, she was a true Princess to him.

«Pardon my poor choice of words, Your Highness, I didn’t mean to offend you.» Her arm escaped the confinement of the blankets, her hand swatting him on the arm, making him laugh.

When his laugh had died down, Killian noticed her expression, now embarrassed. «I’ve missed you,» Emma confessed in a whisper and his heartbeat stopped for what seemed an eternity.

This time, he’d been gone for three months. Against any better judgment, he had fought against Arendelle’s winter to go back to Emma. Winter was coming, and he hadn’t wanted to risk being forced to stay in that place any longer.

«I’ve missed you too, love,» he replied softly, wanting nothing more than bending down an kiss her lips. The mere memory of her had taunted him during his months away. Those months, though, had allowed him to think. And to say goodbye.

Too long he had been bounded to the darkness because of Milah. It didn’t mean he hadn’t loved her, just that that love _was_ darkness. He had figured it out too late, and even if it should’ve been too late for him, the light had started to chase away the darkness in his heart the moment he had met Emma.

Thanks to her, in fact, his heart had begun to feel again, and he wasn’t talking about mere gratitude. It was something more, something he had never felt, so bright and warm that he feared it could burn him. Maybe it actually could.

That fear of being burned as he had been many times was stopping him from name that feeling. He knew its name, but he was afraid of being vulnerable, of letting it consume him. Because it would, and then he would be only hers.

Shifting on the armchair, Emma looked at him. «How was the journey?» she asked, and it hit him that that it was a question a wife would make. Many times, when he was a Lieutenant, he’d wondered how his life would be if the florist’s daughter would grant him the honour of court her. He had been naïve, at the time, and it was just a few days before he was set to set sail for Neverland, but he _had_ thought about it. And a wife asking how his journey had gone, waiting for him at the docks? That was the first thing he had thought about when he had wondered what meant coming home.

And, right now, he was home. And that thought terrified him. «The sea around Arendelle was dreadful, but I am one hell of a captain, after all. Some of my men even got seasick. At least we didn’t face a storm.»

«You… you are… _reckless_!» she hissed infuriated, eyes wide in anger.

He chuckled, now seated on the floor, back against the armchair. «Oh, but I had gifts to bring to my Princess.» Killian pretended that the endearment didn’t make his heart flutter. «I couldn’t make her wait any longer.»

Emma’s eyes were flaring with anger but he could see the affection in her gaze even if she was trying to be upset. « _Your Princess_ here would prefer you to be safe instead of some gifts she doesn’t need.»

That caught him off guard, awe in his eyes as he regarded her from below. «Aye, well,» he mumbled averting his gaze and opening his satchel, «the sea would’ve started to freeze soon and I couldn’t allow myself to spend more time there.» When she didn’t respond, he pulled out the first gift only to have her stealing it the moment she saw it.

«Wh-what are these?» Emma asked confused, grabbing one of the sticks from the paper envelope. He craned his neck to see her eyes study it in fascination.

«Those, love, are candy canes. Although they’re often consumed during the winter festivities, in Arendelle they produce them all year long. I’ve brought you different flavours,» he added sheepishly, the tips of his ear burning. He wanted to bring _her_ to Arendelle, but since he couldn’t he had decided to bring a part of the kingdom to her. It wasn’t much, not nearly enough, but he hoped, one day, to be able to eat those candy canes in Arendelle with Emma, the both of them wrapped in heavy coats, the tips of their noses red.

After she’d put the envelope on the table, he handed her the second gift, another vial of perfume. This one contained a wild rose fragrance, different from the one she already used, just more… _Emma_.

«If next time you’ll bring me another perfume, I’ll actually end up thinking I stink,» she joked passing distractedly her fingers through his hair. Killian sighed at the contact, briefly closing his eyes. She’d done that a few times, always in a distracted way, but it always made him feel relaxed, as if her touch was soothing. _Well_ , it was.

Keeping his eyes closed, he chuckled. «I’ll keep that in mind,» he purred – actually purred – as her fingers kept massaging his scalp. «You don’t have to worry, though, your scent is far from awful.»

She hummed, reaching over his shoulder to search his satchel for the last gift. He smiled; even if she lacked in technique, Emma she still had a little pirate in her. «Aha!» she exulted when her fingers found the music box.

It was nothing special, a waltz as old as he was, but beautiful nonetheless. A soft music filled the air, as graceful as she was. «It’s called _Swan Lake Waltz_ , and-»

«I… I’ve heard it. When I was little, I think,» she murmured, surprising him. «I’ve never attended a ball, of course, I was too little, but I remember the music.» Emma looked at him with a hint of mischief in her eyes. The next thing he knew, she was discarding the blankets off her shoulders and standing beside the armchair.

He was astonished. Emma wasn’t wearing one of the few dresses he knew she had, but a deep red one. It wasn’t new, he could see that. Still, he had never seen her in that dress. Killian gaped at her, looking at her form from head to toe, from her bright, wavy hair, to the black flats she wore at her feet peeking out from under the hem of the gown.

Gold and red decorated her neckline and wrapped around her chest, right under her breasts, now even more pronounced thanks to that detail – and he didn’t notice that, at all. Slightly puffball sleeves ended around her upper arms only to open in a cascade of red silk, the same as the dress.

«You are stunning, Emma.»

Under his gaze, she blushed. «I was wondering if you could teach me how to dance. My father used to dance with me, but I… I’ve never danced. Not really.»

Her voice brought him out of his state of trance. «I’d be honoured, love,» he replied, lifting himself from the floor. «All you need is a partner who knows what he’s doing.» A saucy grin graced his lips as he placed the music box on the small table before leaving his sword near the armchair and reaching Emma.

«And you’re sure you know what you’re doing?» she taunted him.

 _Cheeky wench_ , Killian thought grabbing gently her hand and bringing it to his lip. It wasn’t the first time he kissed her hand, a gesture he made greeting her, not trying to seduce her. Now, tough, he couldn’t deny he was attracted to her. He always had been, but right now… his heart was soaring. _She_ made his heart soar.

«Aye, love, that I do,» he whispered a breath away from the soft skin of her hand. He placed it on his shoulder, trailing his fingertips on her waist, grabbing it and bringing Emma closer to him. Killian shuddered hearing her breath catch in her throat.

Even without looking, he knew there were just a few inches between her breasts and his chest; after all, it wasn’t proper, and even if they were alone, he would always be a gentleman to her. And a little bit of a scoundrel, too.

Emma surprised him by grabbing his hook. She’d never shied away from it, mostly because Killian tried to keep it away from her, but it had never bothered her. Other lasses found it fascinating or intimidating at times, but not one of them ever treated it as if it was just a part of him. That feeling of coming home made its way through is heart once again.

He made the first step, making her move backwards, her eyes trained on their feet. «Don’t look at them, just look at me,» Killian said quietly, afraid of breaking the magic of that moment.

Flushing, she lifted her gaze. «Am I doing it right?»

Killian couldn’t help but smile. «It seems you’re a natural, Princess,» he complimented her with a slight bow before making her spin slowly, mindful of her hair.

«Really?» she asked, eyes bright with hope.

He nodded, pressing her even more against himself; if he looked down he would admire her cleavage in a way he shouldn’t. It wasn’t good form. And he tried, he tried not to look in her eyes with hunger, with that desire that was slowly consuming him. He’d been without a woman for a long time even before Emma and he didn’t mind, but now… it wasn’t a primal need that haunted him, no, it was a need of _her_ , of _Emma_.

And then she moved her hand, cupping his cheek and caressing with deference the scar she found there. Stopping the dance, she reached up on her tiptoes to press her lips to his.

In that moment, everything disappeared, there were only Emma and himself, her roses scent inebriating him more than an entire barrel of rum could do. And because he was weak, he kissed her back, gripping her waist with more possessiveness, her breasts now pressed tightly against his own chest, and he could feel her thighs flush against his.

Needing to feel more than just the pressure, Killian parted his lips, asking with his tongue for her to open her mouth. A moan escaped Emma’s lips when their tongues touched, making them both shiver and every ounce of Killian’s blood ran south, now unable to resist her. He had to, though, he couldn’t take her, ruin her, even if his heart ached for it.

With a sigh, Killian ended the kiss, his forehead resting against Emma’s, the taste of her still on his lips. «Emma…» _Gods_ ¸ his voice was _wrecked_. Hell, his entire body was wrecked, and his soul too. She had this power, and even if he should run away from her, from the danger of being destroyed, he simply couldn’t. And wouldn’t.

«I-I’m sorry, I thought…»

 _Bloody hell_. She thought he didn’t feel the same, that he didn’t feel the need to kiss her, too. «Emma, I do want to kiss you, but… you deserve so much more than me. I’m a pirate, you are a princess, I can’t sully your reputation like this.»

She huffed, shaking her head. «Killian, I want you. _Please_ ,» Emma begged watching him through her eyelashes. «I don’t care about my reputation, I… I just want _you_.»

Killian was stunned. And his heart was ready to fly right out of his chest. «Emma… are you sure?» he asked, searching for doubt in her eyes but finding any. This woman would be the death of him.

«I’m sure, Killian. I’ve thought about this… and I want it. But I’ll understand if you don’t want me…»

«Didn’t we agree that I _do_ want you?»

«Yes, but…»

He cut her off with a kiss. It was more passionate and full of hunger than their first, his fingers now in her hair, his hooked arm circling her waist, bringing her closer to him. Emma moaned against his mouth, her hands pressed against his chest and he would lie if he said he didn’t shiver when her nails ran along his skin.

«Emma…» he groaned when she scratched his neck, «are you sure you know what…» He couldn’t even finish his sentence, his brain no longer useful.

«I’ve…» she panted, her lips moving on the corner of his mouth, «I’ve read things, before, at the palace, and then here.» Her cheeks were now crimson, hot under his fingertips. «Not all those books are about tragedies.»

Killian hummed, his eyes on her lips. «Emma,» he murmured again, her name the only thing that made sense in his foggy mind.

«Killian,» she moaned digging her fingers in his hair and pulling him down toward her mouth. She bit his lip, sucking it between her teeth.

With his hand, he brushed the underside of her breast, knowing too well that she wasn’t wearing a corset, her nipples now on full display, staring at him from beneath the red silk, begging him to be sucked and bitten.

He moved his lips down on her neck, sucking on her pulse point. The moan that escaped her lips almost made him come on the spot. He nibbled at the soft skin under her jaw, making her tremble in his arms.

Her fingers moved under his coat, gently removing it from his shoulders. It landed on the floor with a hollow _thump_ , her eyes trained on his chest, her fingers caressing the chest hair peeking out from under his vest and shirt. Of course, it was still the first time she was touched like this by a man and had the opportunity to touch him, too, but her unexperienced touch made the fire coursing through his veins even more burning.

Killian would never deny the swell of male pride that he felt the moment he realized he’d be her first. He would’ve liked to be her only one, too, but he couldn’t allow to think something like that. Right now, his only concern was Emma.

Boldly, he traced a finger along the neckline, dipping it when he reached her left shoulder, exposing it to his lips just for him to kiss the skin there. She sighed, giving him permission to do the same with the other sleeve. Without thinking about it, he used his hook to bring down the silk, and she actually _moaned_ when steel met skin. That woman would be the death of him.

He smirked against her skin, sucking on her pulse point. «You like the hook, uh?» he asked.

«I-I’ve always liked the hook,» she panted, startling him.

Killian pulled away from her, looking into her green eyes now darkened by desire, echoing his own. He couldn’t describe what his heart was exactly doing in his chest, but it surely wasn’t in its rightful place anymore. Or maybe it was, but it wasn’t beating exactly how it should’ve.

She was bloody brilliant, amazing. And he had every intention of showing her. Capturing her lips once again, Killian started to ease her dress down her body, revealing the white shift she was wearing. His hand cupped one of her breasts, her nipple hard and begging to be sucked into his mouth. Without thinking about it twice, he trailed his lips down, down until he reached said nipple, tracing circles around it before biting gently down onto it from above the shift.

«Killian,» Emma cried out, her arms circling his head, fingers diving into his hair, pulling it. «Gods,» she panted, her head thrown back in the throes of passion.

He kept divesting her, the dress now in a heap at her feet, her breathy moans filling his ears and making his cock throb in the confines of his pants.

Emma yelped when Killian lifted her, bringing her legs to circle his waist. Careful not to step on her hair, he brought her towards the bed, laying her down on the blankets before hovering over her. He traced her kiss-swollen lips with his fingertip, growling when she moved to bite one.

«Minx,» he breathed, diving in to kiss her throat, tracing with the tip of his tongue the hollow he found there, smirking against her skin when she shivered again.

Slowly, he descended toward the valley of her breasts. Killian looked at her. «Still sure?»

Huffing, Emma propped herself on her elbows. «You want to continue or do I have to take things into my own hands?»

Killian pictured her pleasuring herself and shivered, his cock twitching. He had to ground himself on the bed and breathe through his nose to calm herself. «Mhm, I could hold you to that,» he smirked biting down gently on her breast. Another moan, another mark left on her body.

«And I would gladly show you,» she panted in response, kicking her shoes off. He felt her feet tracing the back of his legs, forcing him to grind against her. They both moaned, feeling too much and too little at the same time.

«I want to taste you,» he breathed capturing her lips with his own.

« _Please_.»

Killian placed himself between her thighs, inching the light shift up her knees, kissing the skin there, soft and roses-scented. She moaned again, mewling when he traced the inside of her thigh with his tongue. The undergarments she wore were short and tight, different from what he thought a princess would wear. _But she’s not a common princess_ , he thought divesting her of the garment, revealing her pink and glistening womanhood to his hungry gaze.

He inhaled deeply, filling his nostrils with her unique scent and conceded himself a look at her center, her pink folds dripping with pleasure, her secret pearl _throbbing_ under his gaze, a real treasure nestled in soft golden curls.

Catching her heated gaze, pupils blown wide, Killian lowered his head and traced a light circle around her clit, making her back arch. Smiling against her skin, he parted her folds, his fingertips coated with her arousal, her scent filling his lungs and her taste nectar in his mouth. He could die a happy man between her thighs, spending the rest of his life tasting her and bringing her pleasure over and over again.

Her fingers found their way in his hair, pulling it and pressing him against herself, breathless moans coming out of her plump parted lips as he dove his tongue inside her, his beard scratching her soft skin and leaving angry red marks in its wake. He didn’t think Emma would mind that much, maybe even not at all.

Emma shivered and he smiled against her, lapping at her essence like a starved man. He ignored the pain her nails caused to his scalp since that pain quickly transformed into pleasure that made his cock throb repeatedly. For a moment, he was afraid he would come in his pants like a green lad.

Sucking her bundle of nerves into his mouth, Killian massaged her entrance, sensing her bucking beneath himself. With a smirk, he slipped one finger inside her and his eyes fluttered close feeling how much _tight_ and _hot_ and _wet_ she was for him. He heard her cry out and smirked, moving his finger in and out of her, making sure the coldness of his ring rubbed against her heated and sensitive skin.

«Oh gods,» she moaned with strangled voice, her fingers clutching tightly at Killian’s hair.

His smile widened and he pulled slightly away from her, placing a kiss on her stomach since her shift had ridden up to her waist, exposing more of her soft skin. «That good?» he asked feigning innocence without interrupting his movement. With a feral light in his eyes, he added a second finger, admiring how she closed her eyes and her back arched as he searched for her hidden treasure.

Emma was about to reply when her voice broke in a loud moan and he felt her thighs clench on both sides of his head. _Found it_ , he thought proudly. «You taste so good, Emma, so good,» he murmured against her skin, sucking a mark on her hip before going back to where she needed him the most.

He blocked her movements with his left arm, twisting it so the cold curve of his hook brushed her skin. She was magnificent, tight around his fingers it almost hurt and he couldn’t imagine how she would feel around his cock. He couldn’t think about it, or it would all end really fast and he’d be damned if he let it.

He stretched her, drinking her essence with his mouth and her moans with his ears, the ring on his index finger slipping slightly inside her and her fingers dug into his scalp. Killian went faster, deeper, sucking hard on her clit until he felt her walls clench repeatedly around his fingers. Her body went still and she let out a scream, music to his ears.

He brought her down from her high, cleaning her of her juices and pulling out his fingers. «Bloody amazing,» Killian murmured, licking his fingers clean, not yet ready to be denied of her essence.

Gently, he laid down beside her, tracing his fingers on her stomach and admiring her flushed face, eyes bright. «That was…» she started, breathless, unable to finish her sentence, too many adjectives to describe what she was feeling but none capable of actually doing that.

Killian couldn’t help but chuckle, his fingertips brushing her skin like soft breeze on the ocean. «I’m glad you enjoyed yourself,» he whispered, pressing a kiss on her temple.

«Enjoyed… mhm, that doesn’t actually describe it. It was… so much _more_ ,» Emma tried to explain, turning her heads towards him, mischief shining in her green irises. «And it wasn’t _enough_.»

He groaned, that woman would bring him to an early grave. «Are you _really_ sure you want this?» he asked, he had to make sure she knew what she was asking for. Killian knew that she had few chances of leaving the tower – of course, he would find a way – but at the same time, if she returned home, she would be ruined, and he didn’t want her to be treated as damaged goods. His stomach lurched at the thought of her being considered so, but he also knew how royalty forgave powerful men for having mistresses or adventures before and after their wedding but dishonoured women if they ever thought of answer that lustful call.

To his surprise, Emma smiled softly, rolling over so she was half on top of him her covered breasts, the only part of her that his eyes had yet to see, pressed against his chest, her hips grinding down on his painful erection.

«Please, Killian,» she begged, caressing his cheek with her fingers. Killian closed his eyes before dipping his head and kissing her. Emma hummed, tasting herself on his lips, and that thought set his blood aflame.

He rolled them so Emma was on her back, looking up at him with hooded eyes. With a smirk, he traced his hook along the valley of her breast, tearing the shift but careful not to hurt her. Emma yelped in surprise, a smile gracing her lips. _Gods, she’s perfect_.

Killian felt her hands on his chest, her nails scratching slightly the exposed skin as she then moved to undo the buttons of his vest, fingers trailing down his stomach and he couldn’t wait to feel her skin pressed against his own. He waited, though, wanting her to set the peace, leaving her time to explore him, knowing they would have time to do so, but also that she needed it.

The brocade vest landed on the floor, Emma’s fingers now pulling out his black shirt from his leather pants. He closed his eyes as her fingertips brushed against the skin of his hips and then traced his back while divesting him, feeling every muscle there. The shirt landed somewhere, probably on the vanity, but he didn’t give it much attention.

«You’re beautiful,» she breathed, her palms flat against his chest, finger threading through his chest hair.

Unworthy of that sentiment, Killian just shook his head and kissed her, his hand traveling up her body to cup one of her breasts, using the cold ring on his thumb to circle her nipple. Emma gasped in his mouth.

Gentle fingers travelled to the straps that kept his brace in place, at which he pulled away, shame in his eyes. «It’s not a nice view,» he stammered, but she shook her head and kissed him again, unbuckling the leather straps.

«Everything about you is beautiful, Killian Jones, even your scars,» Emma murmured against his swollen lips. The brace soon landed with a thump on the floor and he felt exposed, ready to hide his stump but Emma was faster, grabbing his arm and bringing it to her lips. His breath itched in his throat as her lips and fingers traced the thick scars there, as if wanting to heal them. What she was doing, instead, was healing the scars on his heart.

Resting his forehead against hers, he closed his eyes. «You’re far more what I deserve.»

«How strange, I thought the same,» Emma laughed softly, kissing him again. They stayed like that, seated in each other’s arms, for what felt like hours before she playfully nibbled his lower lip, her hands moving down to the laces of his pants.

A moan escaped his lips when she caressed him, feeling how hard he was for her, and how _big_ he was. Killian hoped she wouldn’t be scared, even if she knew how sex worked, she might not know that… _Fucking hell_ , he cursed in his mind as her gentle small hands unlaced his pants and brushed again his heated skin.

Uncapable of holding back, he moaned again when Emma took him in her hand, stroking him gently. «Bloody hell, woman,» he breathed, already too close to the edge for his own lacking. Emma’s pleasure came first.

Emma chuckled under her breath. «I’m sorry, it’s just… you’re the first man I actually see naked and… it’s so _big_.»

At her words he let out a strange sound between a moan and a chuckle. «Oh, don’t you worry, princess, it’ll fit.»

It was her turn to moan. Nipping her shoulder once more, he stood on unsteady legs and made quick work of his boots and trousers, keeping his eyes on her naked form. His cock throbbed again. He kneeled on the bed, his eyes still in hers as he bent over Emma.

She moved back, shyly widening her legs to him, offering herself to his own body, trusting him completely. Killian moved, covering her body with his, his hand caressing her thigh and side, traveling down to her dripping entrance.

«Killian,» Emma protested weakly, she’d had enough of feeling just his fingers, as wonderful and magical they were. She wanted to feel _him_.

Carefully, Killian moved closer, the leaking tip of his cock coming in contact with her center had the both of them moaning. «Gods, Emma,» he breathed pushing slightly inside of her, her scorching hot walls tightening at the intrusion made his eyes roll backwards. If that was heaven, he would die happily.

Emma ran her fingers through his hair, bringing him close to her mouth to kiss him, biting down on his lip as he pushed forward, a sharp but bearable pain running through her. Instinctively, she brought her legs around his waist, pulling him towards her.

Whatever use Killian’s brain had ever had, it was now useful, buried to the hilt in Emma, her tight cunt fluttering along his cock. He stopped for a moment, braced on his forearms, and looked her in the eyes, questioning her.

In reply, she kissed him again, bucking her hips upwards. «You’re so tight, and wet,» he grunted, his hand finding its way to her breasts as he slowly started to move inside her.

Emma panted, her hands frantically moving on his back and neck, scratching the skin there. The thought of bearing marks left by her made him growl and his cock twitched inside her, pulling a moan from her plump lips. «You’re so big,» she repeated her earlier words, her legs tightening around his waist.

«Am I hurting-» But she was quick to shook her head no, her eyes hooded eyes telling him she was enjoying it. With a smirk, he bent on her breast and suckled a pert nipple into his mouth. She screamed in ecstasy at that, bucking her hips and making him groan onto her skin.

Slightly quickening his pace, Killian brought his attention on the other nipple, his ringed fingers tightening on her waist enough to leave bruises. He felt her walls clamp down onto him, already close to her second climax.

He suckled on her nipple harder, grazing it slightly with his teeth as his hand moved down her smooth trembling stomach and found her slick clit. «Come, love, come for me,» Killian whispered hoarsely. All it took was a flick of his fingers and she was there, over the moon and far away between the stars, her passion-filled scream reverberating through the tower.

But Killian didn’t relent, wanting to make her come once more. With his fingers still on her clit, circling it, tugging it slightly, brushing it, he picked up his pace, thrusting into her oh so tight cunt it was nearly painful.

«Killian,» Emma moaned, tilting her hips upwards as her ankles pressed against the small of his back, one of her hands gripping his bicep while the other used his necklace to bring his mouth down on hers.

«Again,» he murmured biting down on her lower lip, «come for me again, I want to feel you come around my cock one more time.» He thrust hard inside her, hitting that place that made her see all the stars in the sky and beyond again and again, her screams of pleasure music to his ears.

«Yes!» she panted, her short nails biting into his skin and probably drawing blood as she frantically responded to his thrusts. «Make me come again, Killian, please.»

Her plea made him shiver as he held back his orgasm gritting his teeth so hard it hurt. His fingers moved quicker on her clit, his movements now wild.

Emma came with his name on her lips, tightening like a vice around him and making _him_ see stars.

Killian too came breathing her name, driving himself so deep inside her, spurting hot thick streaks of seed into her warm depths, her walls milking him of all he had.

His head rested in the crook of her neck, her trembling legs had fallen onto the back of his and she was now caressing one of his calves with her tiny foot. That, along with her fingers threading through his thick hair, made him purr.

Emma chuckled softly, still panting, Killian could feel her heart starting to slow down to a normal pace. He didn’t want to crush her, but there was something to say to placing your head upon a woman’s breasts, above her heart. Still, he had to do something before laying down with her.

Slowly pulling out of her – and enjoying her whine as he did so – Killian stood up, going to the basin next to the vanity where he wetted a washcloth and brought it back to the bed, stopping for a moment to admire Emma’s lush naked body. He sat down next to her, parting her legs once more to clean her up, relishing in her quiet moan.

«’S nice,» Emma mumbled sleepily.

After he’d cleaned up himself too, Killian cleaned the washcloth, not knowing what to do exactly. Things had changed, and there was no turning back, as the blood on the cloth demonstrated.

«Come back to bed.»

Emma’s voice made hi turn around. She was now covered by a thick quilt, undoubtedly still naked. Before he could even think about what he was doing, his body had already answered his siren’s call, his feet bringing him to the bed.

Slowly, Killian slipped beneath the quilt. Not having actually _slept_ with a woman in years, he didn’t know how Emma liked to sleep and…

«You can… like before…» she stammered, stifling a yawn, «with your head on my chest. ‘Twas nice.»

His breath caught in his throat, but one look at her sleepy eyes made his resolve crumble. Shifting so he was half on top of her with a thigh between hers, Killian rested his head on her chest. The moment he did, Emma’s hands came to rest one at the nape of his neck, toying with the hair there, and the other running through his inky locks.

Killian fell asleep to the rhythm of Emma’s heartbeat.

* * *

 

Things changed that night. They became lovers, and Killian found it harder and harder to leave her. Yet, he had to, because he had to keep his promise and find a way to free her from that blasted tower.

His last journey to Wonderland had been useless, especially because the old Queen of Hearts was the Evil Queen’s mother and she’d pulled out his heart, ordering him to tell her why he was in her realm.

Even with all the information he provided her, Cora didn’t help him. Well, she couldn’t, exactly, but she still told her the story about the witch that had imprisoned Emma.

«She calls herself Mother Gothel,» Cora had explained, lovingly caressing a flamingo’s neck, «and she’s as old as the world itself, some may say, but she wasn’t the first of her species, she was part of a family of nymphs, once, but then humans killed them all and she, guided by her thirst for revenge, killed as many humans as possible, entire kingdoms at once, leaving only death behind her. Until she stopped. I’ve heard little of that, but apparently some girl named Rapunzel trapped her in a tower. Now, the spell is quite fascinating. Apparently, the tower is enchanted to keep inside any blood relative of Gothel’s until one descendant of her bloodline takes their place. There’s no other way out, I’m afraid.»

That information had made Killian’s head spin. «How… Are you telling me that Emma is a descendant of that… witch?»

Cora had hummed. «It seems so, or your precious Emma lied to you, but I doubt it, since she’s the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming.»

It had taken Emma some time, but in the end, in the middle of the night, cuddled against his chest, she’d told him who her parents were.

«It all depends on when Gothel escaped the tower, probably luring and deceiving some kind of hero on a quest.»

«This doesn’t explain why Emma was raised by her parents in her castle.»

At that, Cora had laughed heartily. «Oh, Captain, don’t make a fool of yourself. Think about it, how could a descendant escape a prison like that?»

«A sibling,» he’d breathed.

«Exactly. A twin, more precisely, is my guess. The firstborn, its bond with the tower cut the moment its sibling was born, would be able to escape along with its mother. Ah, yes, I forgot: the child is always a girl, or at least the one trapped in the tower is. I don’t know if it’s the tower’s doing or Gothel’s, but no man has ever been trapped in there.»

«You seem to know a lot about it for a woman stuck in another realm.»

«You forgot, Captain, that I once lived in the Enchanted Forest, and that the Dark One trained me. I found Gothel’s story in one of his books.»

«What about Emma’s hair? Why does that demon need it to endlessly grow?»

Cora had been intrigued by his question, but didn’t have an answer, only theories, and he didn’t need a bloody theory. «Torture, perhaps, but I think it might be tied to the myth of Samson, the warrior whose strength resided in his hair. For your girl, that strength is her magic.»

«But Emma told me she didn’t have magic anymore.»

«And as _I_ said, Gothel is a powerful witch, capable even of breaking a spell sealed with blood magic, she probably has bound Emma’s magic and uses her hair to drain it from her. Being drained from your own magic… well, let’s say I would wish for it to happen only to my worst enemy. You can see, it, can’t you? How weak she is at times, how empty she feels.»

«Will she die?» _Will she die if I cannot find a way?_

Thankfully, Cora had shaken her head. «She’d never used her magic that much, I gather, so her life isn’t tied to it. _But_ , she’s also the product of True Love, which makes her magic very special to Gothel. We’re talking about the purest form of magic, Captain, the opposite of the Dark One’s. If Emma had had the time to properly embrace it, she might even have defeated Gothel once and for all.»

«That’s why she took her as a child, the magic the other girl provided wasn’t enough compared to Emma’s.»

Cora had nodded with a proud yet sad smile. «Unfortunately, you’re right. I truly am sorry, I don’t know how to help you or your princess.»

She’d given him several gifts for Emma, the most precious one an old hand-mirror capable of showing any place in the world to whomever held it.

When he climbed the tower that night, he found Emma bathing, her eyes closed and the perfume he’d brought her from Arendelle filled the space around him. She was quite a sight, bubbles covering the water’s surface but teasing enough as they gathered around her breasts.

«You’re staring.»

Even with her eyes closed, she _always_ knew he was there. Killian smiled softly, sitting on the floor next to the tub. «Aye, I am. Could you fault me, though? A siren is laying naked before my eyes, it’s bad form not answering her call.» He started kissing the soft skin of her arm, moving up towards her shoulder.

«I think that’s called suicide,» she mumbled, a sigh escaping her lips.

«That, too,» he conceded, nuzzling his nose against her hair falling out of the tub, golden waves he wished he was able to cut. Shuffling out of his coat, Killian moved into a kneeled position and pushed his right sleeve upwards with his hook. He toyed with the bubbles, smearing them over her arm, making Emma giggle.

With a smirk, he immersed his hand into the water, brushing her ribs with his fingertips. Water sloshed everywhere as she squirmed away from him. «Don’t tickle me,» she warned him, trying to be intimidating.

Killian looked at her, feigning indignation. «I would never!» he exclaimed, this time tickling her for real. Emma burst out laughing, the water inside the tub coming out and drenching him. Slowly, he moved his hand down, along her belly, to her mound. Her laugh instantly turned into a moan.

Grinning like a cat, he went lower, relishing in the way she parted her legs underwater for him. He dipped a finger into her moist heat, her moans making him hard as a rock. He added another finger, the ring there slipping just past her opening.

Her hands found his shirt and hair, tugging at them to bring his mouth to hers. Emma had shifted to an awkward angle, the upper part of her body now out of the water, her breasts pressed to Killian’s chest.

It took just a few flicks of his thumb over her clit and his fingers pressing against her sweet spot to make her come undone with a muffled scream. He knew Emma used to touch herself, but she’d also confided his touch was something else completely, spiking her arousal and making her see heaven.

He effortlessly picked her up, slipping one arm beneath her knees, water sloshing all around them as he brought her to the bed.

Killian didn’t want to think about what the Queen of Hearts had told him, not now, not when he’d been so long without seeing, touching Emma, not when he needed to ask for her forgiveness because he didn’t have a way to get her out of the tower yet, because all he could offer her was his scarred body.

* * *

 

The gash on his shoulder still stung. _Bloody flying monkeys_ , he seethed, sighing in front of the tower.

Six months. Six bloody months for a trip that should’ve taken only three, four tops. But no, of course he’d found the Evil Queen there, and _of fucking course_ the Wicked Witch was her sister. Not to mention, there was no Wizard of Oz to speak of.

They’d kept him in the dungeons for months, torturing him, laughing as if they were madwomen – which they were. At first it was just physical torture, but then they started entering his mind. That’s how Regina found out about Emma. He’d tried, he’d tried very hard to conceal his thoughts, but magic was stronger than he was. That was also how they discovered about what Cora had told him, about the tower and so they’d freed him and started to come up with theories about how a curse like that could be broken.

At first, it was odd, he didn’t trust either woman, yet they were powerful witches now that Regina had taken her magic back. They mentioned True Love’s Kiss, of course, the most powerful magic of all, but Killian couldn’t love anymore, his heart was black with darkness and broken into a million little pieces. Of course he cared for Emma, how could he not? But love, True Love, even? That was… no. She deserved a better man, a prince, or someone who hadn’t murdered people. Emma deserved someone worthy of her. Yet, the thought of her with another man seemed capable of broking his already crumbled heart.

He’d found nothing, only a myth, one he would seek once he saw her again. _Once he told her she wouldn’t see him again after he’d freed her_.

The gash was a parting gift from one of the flying monkeys; Zelena’s wicked laugh still ringing in his ear.

The tower was awfully quiet, a trembling light coming from the top. Emma was probably already asleep, probably laying on her side, hugging her pillow as if it was him. Gulping down his own feelings, feelings he’d already experienced but also different, more pure, Killian started his climb.

His shoulder pulsed painfully as he sat on the windowsill, breathing hard. Blindly, he stepped into the tower, stumbling onto Emma’s hair. He hissed, waiting for her to scream in pain or laugh at him or _something_. But nothing happened. He was only met with silence.

Killian frowned. Emma kept in order her hair, never leaving it sprawled around the tower, she hadn’t since their first meeting. His hand flew to the hilt of his cutlass, unsheathing it. «Emma?» he called, his voice vibrating with concern.

«Shhh!»

He swiftly turned around, the tip of his cutlass mere inches away from a woman’s throat. A woman who wasn’t Emma.

«Where’s Emma?» he asked, his heart fearing the answer.

The woman shrugged, her braided hair moving with her just like Emma’s did whenever she moved. «She’s gone.»

 _Gone_. No, that wasn’t possible. He pressed the tip of his weapon more against her soft skin, enough to draw blood. «Where is Emma, what did you do to her?»

The woman, _Gothel_ , laughed, a cold, amused laugh that sent chills down his spine. «I merely helped her, Captain,» she replied, using two fingers to push the blade aside, the wound on her neck instantly healed. «She was… in need of my help. She _begged_ me to help her, actually, which is ironic to say the least.»

Killian didn’t believe her, he _couldn’t_. A thought broke through. _No_ , he told himself, even if that was what had happened, it still wasn’t possible, Emma would have never… But then, doubt creeped in, and he didn’t hear the clattering of the cutlass on the floor. _No_ , he repeated, that couldn’t be.

But now Mother Gothel was holding a bundle of blankets against her chest and Killian felt the world collapse. «Your dear Emma asked me to speed up the pregnancy the moment it started to bother her too much. This little girl was born three weeks ago today.»

 _No_ , Killian pleaded, _no, no, no, Emma would never do something like that, she isn’t a monster_. He didn’t want to believe the monster in front of her, but Emma was gone, and there was his daughter in the witch’s arms. He had a daughter. Gods.

«The rules are simple, Captain,» the witch continued, «you may live with her here, I don’t mind, after all I did let you live with Emma, didn’t I? You must not cut her hair, though your every attempt would just turn into dust. I will visit every six months during her first ten years of life, and I would be glad if you weren’t there, I would hate to ruin your pretty face.»

Both of them knew he’d put his entire being at risk for his daughter, Killian already wanted to wrench her away from the witch’s claws, to protect her in her own prison. His heart raced in his chest, unease until the witch stepped forward, handing him the tiny bundle. Carefully, mindful of his hook, Killian cradled the sleeping baby in his arms.

She was beautiful. Stunning. His freshly broken heart started to beat again at the sight of her, a warm feeling spreading from his chest through his body. Instinctively, Killian started to hum, bringing her towards the bad. It was then that he noticed the crib, a tiny thing the witch must have magicked out of thin air.

«What’s her name?» he asked, turning around, but the witch was gone. Gulping, he set the baby down in the crib, tucking her in and caressing her face with a knuckle. Her skin was so fair and soft, just like Emma’s. From under the knitted white cap, she could see a patch of blond hair. Killian wondered if she had Emma’s eyes, too.

Killian slowly turned around, eyes falling to what remained of Emma’s hair. His body filled with murderous rage, and he swiftly picked it up, gathering it in his arms and pushing it out of the window. He didn’t feel lighter, he didn’t feel anything.

 _First things first_ , the Captain in him took hold of his thoughts. He had things to sort out, things to buy, lessons to learn. But he must be quick, he didn’t like the idea of leaving her alone. Killian bent down, kissing her tiny forehead. She smelled of roses.

Climbing down the tower was easy, it always was. He jumped onto the ground, glaring at the hair on the grass, the moonlight turning it silver. Killian couldn’t bear the sight of it anymore. Angrily, he gathered it in his arms and, with a last glance at the top of the tower, he headed towards a nearby field.

A rough and angry scratch with his hook against the flint and the hair started to burn, a cloud of thick smoke climbing towards the sky. Killian left it all burning, turning his back to the fire and heading towards the town.

He felt sick at the thought that he already wanted to go back, because he’d always wanted to go back to Emma. But now Emma was gone and had left their… no, _his_ daughter in that blasted tower.

Killian came back one hour later, a duffel bag thrown over his shoulder full of things the old women of the village had told him he would need and the awareness of having done something good by leaving the Jolly Roger to Smee, his daughter’s cry in his ears. He climbed the tower as fast as he could, ignoring the pain in his shoulder.

Once inside he carefully dropped the bag and the coat on the armchair before moving towards the crib and lifting his daughter into his arms. Her cries seemed to quiet, her eyes now wide open, looking at him as if wanting to steal his soul. But it was too late, her bright blue eyes, _his own_ , had already stolen everything he had to offer, even his heart.

Still, the wee lass was whimpering, eyes filled with tears. «Shush, little one,» Killian murmured, kissing her forehead, «shush, my little Starfish, your Papa is here, now.» She’d stopped crying, but her whimpering hadn’t.

Sitting down onto the chair nearby, Killian started to gently rock her. He opened his mouth to say something, but all he could do was sing. « _She stepped away from me, and she moved through the fair, and fondly I watched her, and she turned her way homeward with one star awake_ …»

His mother’s lullaby. Again. Killian smiled, his deep voice had managed to calm her. «Well,» Killian whispered, unable to stop rocking her, «I suppose I, uhm, I should… I should call you something.» He felt the tips of his ears turn red at his stammering. «I’ve only ever known one person good enough to pass on their name, my mother.»

Yes, he couldn’t think of a better name, one that he loved as dearly as that one. «Yeah, she, uh, she tried to stay with me as long as she could,» he confessed, remembering very little of her, just her red hair and the flavour of oranges that always followed her. He also remembered her death, her blue eyes closing for the last time as her last breath was used to sing that lullaby to her sons.

Killian looked back down to his daughter, a soft yawn gracing her features as she snuggled more into the blanket. His heart swelled in his chest. «And I vow to do the same for you, Alice.»

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You are probably hating me right now and I deserve it all, I do, but I'm even crying because I love Knightrook so much and I've written the last bits while listening to Peter Hollen's cover of She Moved Through The Fair, so yeah, I'm a crying mess.
> 
> Iwon't be saying anything about the Emma situation because I will explain everything, just hold on and stay with me, okay?
> 
> I want to thank everyone who left a review and all the kudos and favourites and everything. I'm really glad.
> 
> Now I'll go listening to this song until I cry myself to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I'm sorry. I hit a writer block with this fic and I couldn't get past it. Fortunately, I managed to. This block came mostly from the fact that Knightrook is a special realtionship from me, and the thought of telling my vision of what Killian had done during those years he raised Alice overwhelmed me.
> 
> I also thought I'd end up writing much less than 6k words, stopping around 4k. Oh well. I don't know if I'm proud of this chapter, but I kinda am, or at least I'm happy of how it turned out to be. I've used many lines from the show, which is something I really hate to do, but in this case it was just right.
> 
> Thank you for your patience, truly, and I hope next chapter won't be take so long to come, but never say never. Thank you for your words, and even just likes/kudos/favourites, they really mean so much to me.
> 
> Feel free to come say hi on my tumblr at darkcolinodonorgasm ;)
> 
> Without further ado, here you go.

It was hard. At times he thought he couldn’t make it, that he’d failed her too, especially when she couldn’t stop crying. Sometimes he cried himself to sleep, the same thing he did when he was a young boy, a slave sold by his own father.

But oh, it was worth it.

During the first months of living in the tower he didn’t get much sleep, always awoken by Alice’s cries or some noise he thought was the witch showing up. But she kept her word, coming only every six months, mostly looking him in the eyes but searching his soul. He never asked what she searched for, his only concern was Alice’s safety.

Oddly enough – well, not so much, to be honest – the old women living in the nearby town had taken him under their wings, always telling him what he’d need to do, one of them even knitted a blanket for Alice, her name embroidered in blue.

Killian noticed she loved hearing his voice when he didn’t sing but read to her or when he just told her about his voyages, the place he’d seen, much like he’d done with… Gods, thinking about _her_ was painful, and though his broken heart had been mended by Alice, he still found parts of it in pieces.

One thing Captain Hook started to learn was how to cook. Shamefully, he’d never known how to properly prepare a meal, but the books in the tower had helped him a lot. His darkest secret was that he wanted _her_ there with him, not only because she’d teach him how to cook, but because his traitor broken heart missed her.

Whatever feeling Killian had ever felt towards her had been soon turned into hate, it was easier that way. Sometimes, though, he still dreamed of her, of how her soft skin felt under his rough fingers, how her smile always managed to make him feel alive. And now she was gone, abandoning her daughter. A small voice he’d managed to mute over the years kept telling him it wasn’t true, that she hadn’t abandoned Alice. Yet, he couldn’t entertain the idea that she was dead, because Killian knew she _wasn’t_ , he knew it in his broken heart.

Thankfully, Alice kept it beating still. She was his whole world now, even when she cried. He usually slept with her on his chest, those times he had to leave her to buy supplies or hunt were already too difficult to bear.

Just like it was difficult to bear all _she_ ’d left behind. Killian couldn’t understand why she had, everything she’d written, every memory she had of her home. He’d found her journal, noting more than a stack of paper held together by a few ribbons – decidedly a child’s work – and though he’d put off reading it for a long time, it called to him.

One night, when Alice was about nine months old, finally asleep after a cry session – teething, the old women had told him, a nasty affair, one his cold hook apparently had managed to calm down for a bit – with her sound asleep on his chest, he’d started to read it.

_Mama. Snow White._

_Papa. David, Prince Charming._

_Don’t forget._

_DON’T FORGET, EMMA._

He wondered how she’d felt while writing those words, so young and alone, and he wondered once more how she could abandon their daughter with no remorse. Clutching Alice a bit tighter to his chest, he wandered with his eyes over the page, more names filling it, tears ruining some of them. Killian could see her, a blonde little girl with huge green eyes, fat tears rolling down her cheeks, as she wrote those names with shaking hands. He blocked out the vision, he just couldn’t bear it.

Another page, another list of names. Then, there was a lullaby, _Mama’s Lullaby_ it said and, as he read it, he couldn’t help but sense the irony: it called for a father’s guidance, a mother’s prayer for her daughter to be safe.

Killian knew very little of Snow White and her Prince Charming’s story, hell, he didn’t even know about their lost daughter, all he had was Cora’s insight on Snow White’s past, when her mother had died young and prey to Cora’s scheming just for it to escalate into Regina’s thirst for revenge. Probably the lullaby was Eva’s, who sang it to her daughter knowing she’d leave her too soon.

The thought didn’t help, worse, it made him feel bad for them. Was it some kind of curse, all the women in that family destined to somehow abandon their children? Would that happen to Alice, too? _That_ wasn’t something he liked to think about; Alice’s future… he needed to find a way to free her, just like he’d tried to do with her mother, but oh, gods knew he’d try even harder now that it was his own blood trapped in this bloody tower. Yet, he couldn’t leave her alone for months to end, not until she started to understand why he’d have to leave her for so long, not when she might believe he was abandoning her, too.

Some nights, when Alice wouldn’t stop crying and he didn’t know what to do to calm her down, Killian just held her close, fighting back the tears as his voice became more and more hoarse with each verse. It was during those nights, when he was so exhausted he just let Alice cry as he refuged in a tormented slumber, that Alice seemed to calm down out of nowhere, as if someone else had sung her to sleep when he couldn’t. Killian never thought about it much, he didn’t like to.

Once, he’d asked the witch if there was some magical creature in the tower, pixies or fairies – there was a difference – or some other kind of invisible creature that could come and go at their pleasure. She’d told him there wasn’t. He’d not believed her.

But, even if it’d been difficult and painful, he could never bring himself to regret it, not the many nights spent awake nor the many shirts he had to wash over and over because his daughter was a messy eater. Alice was so much more than that, he’d suffer anything just to ease her pain or make her life better, no matter the cost. She wasn’t her flaws, flaws every newborn had, if one could even call them flaws at all; no, she was _light_ , she was _love_ , she was just… _everything_.

The first time she fell ill, a light fever he didn’t know how to treat any more than how he’d done on his ship, he felt his heart break. Fortunately for him, the old maids had the solution to every illness. Killian was unbelievably grateful for them, the last thing he wanted to do was leaving his daughter alone when ill or call the witch to cure her.

Though fussy, Alice was a good patient, sleeping the fever off bundled up in every blanket he’d found, his heart healing with her day by day.

When she started to crawl, he became even more protective of her, watching her like a hawk, ultimately becoming the fierce overprotective Papa Bear he’d always accused Liam to be. The memory brought a chuckle to his lips, which transformed into a laugh when Alice huffed in annoyance as she sat on the carpet, Mister Rabbit clutched in her tiny hand.

It was the only stuffed animal in the tower, the one _she_ was clutching when the witch took her many years ago. It had rapidly become Alice’s favourite toy, as if she _knew_ it belonged to her mother and was holding on to it for dear life, to a memory or what she hoped was her love. As much as he wanted to just get rid of everything that ever belonged to _her_ , Killian couldn’t bring himself to do that, he couldn’t and wouldn’t do that to Alice. If she thought her mother hadn’t abandoned her but had died or something else, well, he would gladly play along for Alice’s sake.

As if Killian’s life hadn’t been already turned upside-down, when Alice began walking, admittedly a bit wobbly, as many children did, his life became even more complicated. She didn’t just run everywhere, giggling, blond hair bouncing on her back, but she _climbed_ onto everything. His heart almost stopped when he found her onto one of lowest beams just because she wanted to have a better look at the ship painted on the wall.

It was no wonder her first word was “ship”, as much as he wanted to repaint the walls to delete _her_ presence from the tower, he found it was the best and only way to show Alice the Jolly Roger. He’d told her many, many tales of his adventures, of the places he’d been to, the creatures he’d seen and the people he’d met. Alice was _thrilled_ , always asking for one story more, begging him to take her with her. All Killian could do, ignoring his heart breaking in his chest, was promising he’d find a way to make her wishes come true.

He started searching for a way to free Alice when she turned three, spreading the voice in town and calling Smee back. Although he didn’t want to go on months-long journeys again, Killian could still delegate to Smee. After all, it was what he’d done when he gave him the Jolly, Killian knew Smee would just keep her for him.

In the past year, Smee hadn’t been able to find anything, nothing Killian hadn’t already tried, at least. Part of him wondered if the Dark One knew. Maybe… maybe he could go to his castle, since he knew it was unhabituated. He… he wasn’t ready to go to Misthaven, not if it meant he could see _her_.

Yet, he had to wait: the castle was too far away for him to take a week’s journey, it’d take him a month at least, long hours of research included. Although he trusted Smee with his own life, Killian couldn’t trust him to search for some kind of magic artefact all alone.

So he waited, Alice’s birthdays marked by the witch’s visit. She always brought her some kind of gift Alice never wanted or even looked at, burying them at the bottom of the chest containing her clothes at the foot of her bed. When she’d started to become too big to sleep together on the bed, Killian had put up a hammock. He didn’t mind, he’d slept in far worse places when he was a lad, and then later, when he’d served in the navy. It wasn’t until he became a Lieutenant that he had started to sleep in a real bed when at sea.

And as Alice grew, so did her interests. At first she divided her time between tea parties with her stuffed friends, Mister Rabbit always the one she spoke to the most, and imploring him to read to her. He didn’t mind, how could he when all he wanted was to make her dreams come true? After he’d started teaching her how to read and write, he’d begun teaching her calculus and geography as well as history and astrology, though Alice was more interested in the myths tied to the stars and not how to navigate using them.

One thing he didn’t need to teach her was how to draw. It started out with a few sketches on some papers, then developed into beautiful drawings, mostly ships, replicas of the one painted on the wall. It’d baffled him how talented his Starfish was. Of course, he liked to sketch, too, at times, and her mother was incredibly gifted as well, but never one he’d thought Alice would inherit their talent. His heart fluttered at the thought of _their_ daughter having inherited more than their physical characteristics.

Alice was an amazing painter, filling the spots in the walls her mother had left bare, recreating the stories Killian told her. It was simple for him to just go and buy her the perfect brushes and paints, along with easels and canvases; the fatigue and ache in his body forgotten at the sight of her blue eyes wide and bright with wonder.

Besides schooling her, Killian also taught her how to play chess. It was their favourite pastime, Alice always getting upset whenever he let her win. Soon, she mastered the game well enough to beat him fair and square. It delighted him, filling his heart with love and warming him in a way he thought he’d never experience again.

But since she was the daughter of Captain Hook, Killian couldn’t stop himself from teaching her how to fence. Of course, he taught her with wooden swords. It began as a game, mostly mock attacks and parries and Killian ending up faking his death, just to enact his revenge on Alice the moment she kneeled beside him, grabbing her and rolling her over, tickling her until she couldn’t breath and her stomach hurt from laughing.

Killian loved those moments, when they were just them, a family. _A family of two_ , he thought, bitter at the thought that her family was bigger. It killed him that nobody but him knew of her existence. He had to stop himself from wondering if _she_ had ever talked to her parents about her daughter or if she was just being a normal princess after everything she’d been through. Killian hated that she still had so much power on him even after _years_.

«Papa,» Alice asked him one night as she lay tucked in bed, Killian next to her over the blankets, a book in his lap, «how do you know when you are in love?»

The question startled him, which made him wonder how long she had kept it in. It was a silent agreement, none of them spoke about _her_ , Alice had never questioned him about a mother, somehow it was as if she just… _knew_.

Alice was still waiting for a reply.

«I… it’s been so long, Starfish. I think… I think love is a challenge. Not one you have to win, mind you, but one you have to keep alive. Starfish, you meet loads of people in this world, but the best ones, they’ll challenge you, make you see the world through a whole new looking glass. That’s how you know you are in love.»

Alice yawned, snuggling into his side. «Sounds perfect,» she mumbled into his shirt, «Mama must’ve changed your entire world.» She fell asleep after whispering the last word.

Killian was astonished, not only because of the truth behind her statement, but also because she’d never spoken about _her_ , not once.

With tears-filled eyes, Killian closed the book and bent his head to kiss Alice’s forehead after he’d brushed her golden hair away. «Aye, my love, that she did. She gave me you.» _And not just because of this_ , his mind added, but he buried the thought deep inside.

After that night, Alice never mentioned her Mama again.

When she was seven, hair down to her hips, Alice asked him to teach her how to dance. The music box was one of her most beloved possessions, and though she danced by herself and often forced him to join her, she didn’t know how to follow the rhythm.

At first, she would dance on his feet, complaining that he wasn’t teaching her right, but enjoying those moments nonetheless.

«Alright, alright, Starfish, I surrender,» Killian laughed, «when you waltz, there’s only one rule: pick a partner who knows what he’s doing.» With that, he led her through the dance, making her twirl and laugh and his heart was bursting.

As much as he longed to stay with her, he couldn’t give up on his quest for her freedom. His departure worried Alice to no end, nightmares plaguing her, visions she kept from him that saw her Papa being chocked by the evil witch.

Her fear didn’t diminish, investing her like a tidal wave, making her scream in fear as she wake up from her latest nightmare the night of his departure. He was there in mere seconds, hugging her tightly to his chest.

«Shh, Starfish, ‘tis alright, I’m here,» he whispered in her hair, caressing her back with circular movements to calm her down. It wasn’t the first time she had a nightmare, but nothing was comparable to this last week.

«But you won’t be,» Alice sniffled against his chest. «I know you won’t.»

Killian’s heart tightened in his chest. It was always the same argument, and the problem wasn’t believing her, but knowing what she dreamed would come true, one way or another. He couldn’t even think what it’d mean abandoning her, not even if it wasn’t his choice. «You do see the world in a special way, Alice. If you say the dream means something, then I believe you.» He then held her in his lap, cuddling her as if she was still a newborn. Glancing at the checkboard, he reached out with his hand, grabbing one of the pieces.

«What are you doing?» Alice asked with a frown.

He smiled softly at her. «Making sure the dream doesn’t come true.» Killian sighed, his mind set, now, and he wasn’t going to go back on his decision. «There’s one more thing I can try, Starfish. One I do not like at all, but I must. It’s a dark path that I always feared to take, but I don’t have any other choice if I want to save you.» Placing the white knight into her tiny hand, he told her: «Keep this close by, to remember me.»

Though her huge blue eyes were shining with tears, she didn’t cry. His little Starfish was strong, stronger than him, but even she feared what would happen to him. Alice didn’t deserve that kind of weight on her small shoulders.

Clutching the knight tightly, Alice wrapped her arms around his chest, burying her head in the crook of his neck. «I’m scared, Papa.»

 _Aye, Starfish, I am too_. Killian couldn’t say those words aloud. Nonetheless, it was as if Alice had read his thoughts. Next thing he knew, she was reaching out to grab the black rook just to put it in his hand, just like he’d done with the knight mere moments before. «Take this. To remember me.»

Killian smiled softly, trying to not show his pain at the thought of leaving her, knowing she somehow could see it. «My little rook,» he murmured, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, the chess piece still clutched tightly in his hand. «You are the bravest girl I know.»

And so Killian climbed down the tower, heading to the one place he knew he’d find answers but also where he could find out what happened to the woman who broke his heart. For Alice, though, he’d endure everything that would come at him. He couldn’t fail her, too.

Sneaking into Misthaven was easy enough, and though he _wasn’t_ searching for answers to _that_ particular question, he also heard that the kingdom still mourned the lost princess but brushed it off; she wasn’t in the tower anymore, she was probably off somewhere else, abandoning both parents and daughter to mourn her. Abandoning _him_.

The Crocodile hadn’t changed in all those years, his scaly skin twinkling under the torches’ light, delighted to see his enemy practically on his knees, begging him for a favour. And a favour he did: there was a way to free Alice once and for all.

It didn’t matter the imp wanted his freedom, if it meant saving Alice, Killian would even lay his own life for the Dark One to take if it meant his beloved Starfish would be safe.

Alas, in the end, it wasn’t the Crocodile who led Killian to his demise: it was his own pride.

Although he’d won Maui’s Fishhook from Ahab fair and square, the one-legged Captain had managed to follow Killian to the Dark One’s dungeon, taunting him to the point Killian Jones vanished and Captain Hook came out of his dormant state he’d been confined into for the better part of a decade.

As his fingers wrapped around the gun he couldn’t help but think it would be all over quickly and he would soon free Alice from her prison.

Yet, as Smee started to count, he was flooded with memories, mostly memories of Alice since she was a baby that would fit in the crook of his arm, her laugh ringing in his ears as he saw her joyful face when he’d spin her around whenever they danced, the ways he focused during her fencing lessons, the tip of her tongue poking out from the corner of her mouth. Halfway through, the memories changed, _Alice_ changed, becoming _her_ , and his heart throbbed at the memories of tentative kisses, sweet words and a musical laugh he thought he’d forgotten, green eyes timidly looking up at him through thick lashes, snowy skin sprinkled with freckles he’d loved to kiss.

The bullet didn’t exactly hurt him, the pain blossoming moments after he’d won the duel, releasing him from his reverie. Killian felt nothing like a winner: he’d lost, giving in to arrogance and rage, to the _need_ to prove Captain Hook had not gone soft. But he had not been Captain Hook in a very long time, he _couldn’t_ be him, and Killian paid the price for his actions, though not with a mortal wound.

No, the price was far, far worse.

She heard him climbing up the tower before he was even halfway to the top – _gods_ , just like her mother.

«Papa!» Alice exclaimed, the brush she had in her hand clattering on the floor as she stood up from the stool and launched herself at him, circling his neck tightly with her arms. «I was starting to worry!»

Killian held back a sigh of relief as he hugged her, his hand cupping the back of her head. He buried his head in her golden locks, inhaling her perfume; Alice perfumed of roses, just like her mother. «I’m here now, Starfish.» He could feel how desperate she’d been, the force she was hugging him with a telltale sign. «I’ve found a way,» he whispered in her ear, «I have something that can smash this tower to pieces.»

The words were barely out of his mouth when a sharp pain shot through his chest, making him grunt and stumble away from his daughter, landing with a thump against the stone wall.

«Papa? What’s happening?» Alice cried, standing still where she was, fear clutching her in its claws.

«I-I don’t know,» Killian whimpered as he tried to step towards her to calm her down, to tell her everything was alright, but he couldn’t.

A laugh echoed in the tower, freezing the blood in his veins, fear clouding his mind.

«Oh, I do.»

The witch chuckled again as she lowered the dark red hood, revealing hair tied in braids and an amused expression.

Anger flooded through Killian. It wasn’t time for her to come to visit, the only reason why she would be there was that she’d gotten word of what he’d acquired and wanted to stop him. Forcing himself not to look at the leather sack where the fishhook was, Killian maintained his eyes trained on Gothel. «What did you do to me?» he questioned, his tone as hard as steel.

The witch began to wander around the tower, admiring Alice’s paintings, significantly alternating her gaze between the canvases and the painted walls. «No less than you deserve, _love_ ,» she mocked him, tracing a long finger over the painting of a ship. _The calm before the storm_ , his Starfish had called it. Alice didn’t like it.

«What do you mean?»

Her eyes bore into his. «I’ve poisoned you: every time your precious little Alice draws near, the poison will corrupt your heart.»

 _No_ , Killian thought, widening his eyes. No, he couldn’t stay away from Alice, he had to free her, he mustn’t abandon her. _Ever_.

Alice’s eyes were shining with unshed tears. «Please, please, don’t do this! He’s my Papa, he’s a good man! He doesn’t deserve this!»

But the witch laughed again. «Not good enough, sweet child,» she retorted and the fishhook appeared in a wave of smoke. «You see, Alice, after he found the way to free you, your precious Papa went on a little detour because, apparently, there’s someone more important to him than his daughter. Himself. Yes, that’s right, don’t be surprised, _Starfish_ , he still is Captain Hook, after all, and gods forbid people think Captain Hook has gone soft. So he went and fought a duel for his precious honour.»

Betrayal etched onto Alice’s face, a lone tear running down her cheek as Killian’s heart shattered. He wanted to deny, tell her it wasn’t true, that the most important thing for him was her, but he couldn’t. Shame and pain filled him, tearing him apart.

«You didn’t come right back.» Alice’s voice was strained, the tears clear in her tone as she fought the lump in her throat to speak. «You promised me!» Tears were now descending freely, the fragments of his hear turned into dust at the sight.

«I’m sorry, Starfish, I’m so, so sorry.» He was crying too, now. «How? How did you do this to me?» Killian gritted out, hate shining in his eyes as he looked at the witch; he couldn’t bear the sight of his daughter crying because he’d let her down, the pain he’d experienced moment before was nothing compared to what he was feeling now.

Gothel shrugged, her fingers drumming on the music-box’s lid. «It was actually really simple: I just made sure the bullet was poisoned. Your pride did the rest. You know, Killian Jones, you’ve always made things _so_ simple for me. Must be a gift.»

At those words, not matter how true and painful they were, he lunged forward, aiming to take her life with his own hook. His attempt was short-lived, as Gothel raised her hand and Killian felt an invisible force blocking him. «You can’t keep me from her,» he hissed through his teeth, a tempest raging in his eyes. «I _will_ get her out of here.» _Even if it’s the last thing I do._

Slowly shaking her head no, the witch tsked. «No, you won’t, Captain. You will fail her, again and again.» She tilted her head, an amused smirk blossoming on her face. «You might as well go back to the tavern and another drink.»

With that, she waved her hand and the force that was keeping him rooted on the spot pushed him back, back towards the open window and out, his desperation making him sink his hook into the wooden windowsill. It didn’t matter, Gothel’s magic too powerful for him to resist as he kept being pushed backwards, a deep groove the last trace of Killian Jones’ presence in the tower.

Alice’s cries for him filled his ears as he fell onto the ground, the impact hurting him in so many places but the only pain he could feel was the one in his chest. Without thinking about what could be broken or not, Killian stood and started climbing the tower again. _I’m coming, Starfish, don’t fear_ , he thought as Alice’s broken voice reached him.

« _Such a heartbreaking cry for help_.» Gothel’s voice taunted him in his mind, amused.

Killian ignored her, but the higher he climbed, more his heart swelled in pain inside his chest. He tried not to think about it, and he’d almost made it when his arms and legs gave out and he fell once more on the ground; this time one or several of his bones broke. Again, Killian ignored the pain, trying to climb the tower again.

« _I couldn’t let you free her, Captain. And now you never will. She’s too precious for me._ »

Again and again he fell, he tried so many times he even thought he’d die from internal bleeding or exhaustion, but Death never came to collect his soul. At one point during the night, he was so weak he could barely stand, his poisoned heart now too painful to ignore: even going near the tower sent a stabbing pain through him.

Looking up at the tower where his daughter still cried out for him, Killian closed his eyes, silent tears streaming down his face. _I’m sorry, Starfish, I was weak. I failed you._

That night, Killian Jones disappeared.

* * *

 

Killian had shut himself from the world, finding refuge in a cave by the sea, the perfect hideout for someone like him.

He didn’t need much: a chair, a several candles to read at night, a hammock to sleep, a sea chest with all his belongings and rum. Lots and lots of rum, that was his way to deal with the loss of Alice.

At first, the only place he stayed at was the tavern, drinking himself to death and oh, maybe to die would be a perfect way to lessen the pain he felt. Yet, no matter how much rum he drank, Death never came, and he was okay with it, it didn’t matter, he must suffer for what he’d done to Alice, for how he’d failed her.

He’d never revealed his identity, the innkeeper only looking forward to the gold Killian gave him: as long as he had enough, he could keep drinking.

As time passed, Killian started to waste himself away, his youthful glow slowly faded away, the pain rotting him from the inside and leaving just an empty shell of the man he once was.

His visits at the tavern started to become more and more sporadic, until he left his hideout only to hunt when he wasn’t in the mood for fish and refill the barrel of rum once a month.

Almost two years after his fall, everything changed once again.

He was at the tavern once again for his monthly visit. Killian knew that, if he lowered his hood, people would recognize him in the blink of an eye, his looks hadn’t changed much, he was just more unkept with dark bags under his dull eyes and his hair longer and shaggy, his posture no longer one that instilled fear or drew hungry gazes, but an anonymous one.

The voices reached his ears while he gulped down his ale, waiting for someone to refill his barrel.

«They want to tear it down?»

«Nay! They already _tried_. Apparently, that thing is enchanted. Those who climbed it never made it to the top.»

Killian couldn’t remember how to breath. _They’ve found the tower. They have found Alice. She’s in danger_.

«It’s been almost a year, one would thing people had found out a way already.»

Panic filled him as he stood, nearly knocking over the entire table, and hurried out of the tavern as fast as he could manage. His body wasn’t used to runs or any form of fatigue anymore, but that didn’t stop him from hurry, the path that led to the tower still clear in his mind as if he’d never stopped walking it.

 _I’m coming, Starfish, I won’t let anyone near you, even if I have to kill them one by one_ , he mentally swore as he rushed past the trees and into the clearing just to stop dead in his tracks.

Where once stood the tower there was now what seemed a huge beanstalk which reached past the clouds. All around the base, scattered as if they were garbage, lay what remained of the tower, ruins claimed by ivy and other wild plants.

«Alice!» he started to scream, desperately wanting her to be nearby. It was useless, he knew that, but his daughter name, the one he’d whimpered only when he cried himself to sleep or cried out when memories of the last time he saw her taunted him as nightmares, had instinctively found its way to his lips.

 _Please, Starfish,_ he pleaded in his mind, but no response came, not even the chirping of crickets filled the air. He’d never desired to feel the pain her vicinity would bring him like he was doing in this moment.

Clenching his jaw, Killian looked up at the beanstalk, not even wondering how such a plant could grow in so little time and destroy the tower, but he also knew where he could find some answers. Or, at least, he hoped he would.

After he’d shrugged off the cloak to freely move, Killian neared the beanstalk. They’d said it was enchanted and somehow he could _feel_ it. He didn’t know why, but he felt a connection to it. Was it Alice’s magic? He remembered his daughter being able of little tricks, mostly, well, mostly wishes come true, in a way, but he’d never imagine her capable of something like this.

At the beginning, his muscles protested but his mind was set: he would reach the top, one way or another.

It was a long climb, sweat beading his forehead as he forced himself to cover the last feet without looking back. Though he wasn’t afraid of heights, there was a limit to everything, and being gods know how many feet above the ground wasn’t something he liked.

The beanstalk had pierced through what looked like a courtyard of sorts, as if wherever this place was actually was a castle. Or, at least, it had been.

Not knowing what to expect, Killian’s hand flew to the hilt of his cutlass, ready to draw it if something attacked him. From a dark corner of his mind came the memory of old tales speaking of giants living in a place unreachable by men, of the entirety of them being slaughtered. He really hoped every one of them was actually dead, the thought of facing a giant wasn’t a pleasant one.

He didn’t call out Alice’s name, she wasn’t there. Or, if she was, she wasn’t near.

Silently, Killian made his way towards the castle in ruin, guessing a safe hiding place would be inside, knowing he could spend _days_ searching every inch of it. It didn’t matter: he needed to find Alice.

Killian was heading into what looked like a dining room, with a long table and food spread over it, when he heard voices. One was clearly feminine, the other louder and male. _Giant_ , he thought, gripping his cutlass and unsheathing it.

Following the voices, he found himself in a room filled with riches, so many his head almost started to spin. Shaking himself, Killian hid behind the entrance, listening to the voices.

«Are you sure you haven’t seen her?» The female voice was pleading, almost on the verge of tears. It was a bit raspy, as if it hadn’t been used in a long time. «Please, Anton, I need to know! She must be nine by now!»

Alice, the woman was talking about Alice. It wasn’t the witch, no, this wasn’t her modus operandi, this was someone else, someone who was seeking his daughter even though nobody knew of her existence, exception made for Smee and the Dark One. He wondered for a moment if the crocodile had escaped his prison and was trying to find Alice. The thought made his blood run cold.

«I’m sorry, I haven’t. Alice _was_ here, yes, but it was almost a year ago. I don’t know where she went, all she asked me was if I knew of a way to cure a poisoned heart.»

A defeated sigh. «And then she managed to cure the dead magic bean so you could start cultivating them once more.»

«Yes, she did,» the giant spoke in a sweet tone. «Alice helped me making them grow faster. Then, one night, she disappeared, a few of the beans gone with her. I still have the note she gave me, perhaps you can use it to track her down.»

«I would need something of hers,» the woman replied, a lump in her throat making it difficult for her to talk. «Thank you, Anton. For taking care of her.»

«It was my pleasure. I hope you find her.»

Footsteps echoed against the high walls: the woman was coming towards him. Before she could exit the treasure room, Killian acted. «Don’t move,» he ordered coldly, the tip of his cutlass grazing against the woman’s pale throat.

The moment his eyes landed on her, Killian felt as if the world had shifted under his feet.

« _Emma_?»


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh god, it's here. I've written this chapters in, like, three days - let's say four, alright? - and I'm so, so happy of how it turned out. There's only the epilogue left, but this chapter, god, this chapter I think is the soul of the story. I'm so proud of it, which is kind of strange of me, but it's probably because this story helped me dealing with season 7.
> 
> Fun fact, and you'll get what I mean when you'll get there: I developed this story almost immediately after 707/708, so I only added tiny bits of information, not what would happen to the characters.
> 
> I can't thank you enough for every word and kudos you leave, they really mean so much to me. Thank you.
> 
> Visit me on twitter at liliumweiss or on tumblr at darkcolinodonorgasm if you want ;)
> 
> Now, on with the story, and brace yourself, it's a rollercoaster of emotions and I basically broke down while writing two specific words, but oh well, it happens.

She was older, _years_ older than when he’d last seen her, but almost the same. Gone was the long hair, its colour no longer golden as the sun, almost lifeless, much like her. Her cheeks were no longer full, but hollowed, her skin paler than a ghost’s and her thin lips almost bloodless. Once, her body had been skinny but toned, now he could see her bones through her clothes. But her eyes, oh, her green eyes, though duller, were still the same.

«Killian,» Emma breathed, tears filling her eyes and _no_ , she wasn’t allowed to do that, she wasn’t allowed to be emotional and act as if nothing had happened, as if she’d not abandoned her daughter.

A muscle ticked in his jaw, his teeth protesting under the pressure. «What are you doing here?» His voice couldn’t be harsher even if he tried. Killian didn’t want her there, no matter how much his heart fluttered in his chest, no matter how a lost part of him longed to gather her in his arms and kiss her senseless, to lost himself in her like he’d once done.

«I’m searching for our daughter.»

Her reply hit him like a punch in the guts, like salt poured on open wounds. Rage flared inside him, making him step closer to her, the tip of his cutlass dangerously digging into her skin. Killian knew it could break in any moment. He almost didn’t care. _Almost_.

«You have _no_ right. You abandoned her.» _You abandoned_ me.

Emma started to frantically shake her head, the blade cutting the skin. She didn’t move away. «No, no, Killian, you don’t understand.»

Rage coursed through him. «What? What is it that I do not understand, Emma? That you didn’t even wait for me to come back before asking that witch to speed up your pregnancy? That you didn’t love her enough and decided to force her to endure the same fate as you? For gods’ sake, Emma, she was just a child!»

Tears were running down her cheeks, now, and though part of him wanted to just brush them away, Killian couldn’t just do that, too hurt to even feel something other than hate. _You didn’t love_ me _enough to stay_ , was what he wanted to shout, the words dying in his throat. There were questions in his mind that needed answers, he knew that, but he couldn’t bear the thought of being destroyed any further.

«Emma? Are you alrig- _who are you_?»

 _Bloody hell_ , Killian thought, lifting his eyes to see the giant approaching, as if the earth trembling beneath his feet wasn’t proof enough.

«Don’t worry, Anton!» Emma told him, pulling away from the blade, a drop of blood making its way down her pale throat. Guilt washed over Killian for harming her, stronger than the sense of betrayal he felt towards her. «He’s Alice’s Papa, he’s here to find her.»

«Didn’t look like that to me,» Anton boomed, his fingers twitching as if he was dying to curl them around Killian and crush him until he became dust. The giant’s eyes shifted onto Emma. «He hurt you.»

«It’s just a scratch, don’t worry, I’ll be fine.»

Anton didn’t look convinced, he quickly moved his eyes between the two humans. «I went into the bedroom I’d given her and found this.» He lowered his open palm right next to them.

Killian’s eyes widened at the sight. It was Mister Rabbit. Alice would never leave it behind. He heard Emma gasp and couldn’t help but look at her. Tears were running down her cheeks, her bony hand pressed against her mouth.

Despite the hate he felt for her, Killian couldn’t understand her reaction. He’d seen many a bluff, he himself had bluffed many times, but Emma? She was not, she looked extremely pained and concerned. It didn’t make any sense.

Before he could move, Emma slowly approached the giant’s huge hand, taking the stuffed rabbit from him. «Mister Rabbit,» she whispered with a tearful smile.

 _How does she know?_ , Killian asked himself, becoming more and more stunned by the minute. Although he wanted it to be, it couldn’t be a coincidence.

«This belonged to me,» Emma murmured softly, caressing the crooked left ear of the animal, «but it’s been hers, too.» Killian watched her look at the toy, her eyes not actually seeing it, lost in some distant memory. As if waking up from a dream, Emma shook her head slightly, her hand going to her neck, where a vial of something shiny hung from a leather string.

«Stop!» he exclaimed, fear grabbing his heart like a vice, eyes wide. He was terrified whatever magic she had there would take the only way to find his daughter away from him, that it would take _her_ away from him. Again.

Emma must’ve read the feelings storming inside him because she dropped her hand, keeping it away from the vial. «I’m sorry, I should’ve asked you first,» she mumbled, casting her eyes downwards. «It’s a simple locator spell, Blue… the Blue Fairy helped me concocting it.»

At that, Killian furrowed his brows. «You still have magic?» The grip on his cutlass tightened, his knuckles turning white.

Emma didn’t meet his eyes at the question. «It’s… feeble. It still is… there, or here, inside me, but Gothel has used it so much during all these years she drained it, almost to the point to barely leave any.»

He wondered if her condition was due to this draining, which led to him questioning himself what happened to Alice once the tower was destroyed, if her body had started to perish, too, just like Emma’s. Somehow, he wasn’t sure it was all magical.

«How can I trust you won’t just disappear with the rabbit? How can… how can I trust you?» The words hurt him like thorns as they made way out of his mouth.

A lone tear ran down Emma’s cheek, her lower lip trembling uncontrollably. «I’m sorry, Killian, I’m so sorry.»

Her words only managed to infuriate him even more. «You keep saying that, but you weren’t sorry when you left me to take care of a baby in a bloody tower she couldn’t escape, were you? You left, like everyone else, without even look behind to see the pain you left in your wake. And now you come here, claiming you’re sorry, and want to find _my_ daughter? Why would you? You are free to go, _Emma_ , we managed without you, we surely don’t need you now.»

But Emma was now crying in the earnest, shaking her head no with such violence he was afraid she might even lose her head. He shouldn’t care. «No, Killian, please, no! It’s not like that!» she pleaded him to listen to her, to _believe_ her, her fingers digging into Mister Rabbit and clutching it to her chest and in a flash he saw another Emma, this time a scared eight-year-old, terrified of the night in the tower. A blink and little Emma turned into Alice, her mother’s cry mixing with hers as she called out his name, afraid of being alone. «Killian, please,» Emma struggled to say, «I never left the tower.»

That got him. Oh, how he hoped she was _lying_ , he _wanted_ her to be lying to him, even when she was so miserable, but deep down he knew, he knew she wasn’t. Still, his resentment toward her was still alive inside him. He eyed her carefully, his fist tightening even more around the hilt as he forced himself not to let it fall on the ground and rush to take her into his arms.

«How funny, I never saw you in there,» Killian joked, but his voice held no amusement, just scornful irony.

Emma recoiled as if his words had physically hit her. She set her jaw, her chin still trembling slightly. When she opened her mouth, it was as if _he_ ’d been punched by her words. « _She stepped away from me, and she moved through the fair, and fondly I watched her_ …» Emma sang, another tear ruining her pale complexion. «You would sing this to her every night, every time she was fussy, because it was your mother’s lullaby, the one she would sing to you and Liam when you were little.»

 _That’s the Emma I remember_ , he couldn’t help but think when he finally saw the fight in her eyes. He tried to ignore the questions he wanted to ask, how did she know, what did she mean when she said she’d never left the tower, if this new information would change his feelings for her or if they hadn’t changed at all, always there, his heart always trying to tell him she lov- _No_.

He was this close to raise his cutlass to her throat once more, darkness whispering in his ear she wasn’t Emma, that she actually was the witch. «How-»

«How do I know, Killian?» she cut him off, «how do I know my own daughter’s name? How do I know you used to sing to her until you had no more voice yet you kept going on because she wouldn’t calm down, too hungry or too tired or teething? How do I know what our daughter did until the day the tower was destroyed? Gothel _trapped_ me, Killian, she trapped me behind the looking glass hours before your arrival.»

Killian was… he didn’t know what he was, dumbfounded, astonished, _whatever_. He was at a loss of words, he couldn’t even _think_. The feeling of betrayal, the loneliness he’d felt all those years, the _darkness_ inside him didn’t want to listen to her, trying to convince him she was lying. But here’s the thing: Killian believed her. Or rather, part of him did, the same part that had never stopped caring about her.

He didn’t ask what she meant, her words were clear enough, but he still couldn’t understand. So he let his still-lingering anger have the best of him. «Oh, so you ended up in Wonderland? Nice place, that one. Did you enjoy the tea parties? Or perhaps it was the Hatter who was more enjoyable than simple tea?»

The sound of the slap echoed through the castle, his cheek burning as if someone was pressing a lit torch against his skin. He deserved it, he knew he did, the wave of shame that washed over him hitting him like a sword ran through what was left of his heart.

Killian didn’t know he’d closed his eyes until he found himself reopening them just to see her fragile body tremble with rage. In that moment, Killian felt scared.

«You have _no_ right, Killian!» she seethed, green eyes suddenly burning with fury, «you don’t know what it was like! I tried to keep Gothel in the dark, because I was so sure you would come back with a way to free us.» Emma sobbed, brushing the tears away from her face. «At first, it looked like she wanted to let me keep her, saying Alice was a blessing. T-the day you- you came back she used her magic to speed up the pregnancy. My belly swelled in a matter of seconds, my baby, the baby I thought I would have nine months to feel grow and move inside me was out of me in a matter of minutes. At first I didn’t understand why she did it. I-I… I didn’t even have the time to hold her in my arms before… before…»

He felt the urge to gather her into his arms and hold her close, like he used to do years ago when she had a nightmare. But Killian couldn’t just go back in time, as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t change the past.

A scoff flew past her lips as she shook her head. «You think I ended up in Wonderland, Killian? You have _no_ idea where I went. I-I… It was still the tower, a-a mirror version of it, I don’t know, but I was still trapped there, my hair still growing and my body abused, _empty_.» Emma sniffled, trying to contain her sobs, ultimately breaking down in tears once more.

For so long Killian had wondered if his heart could still be broken, if the dust it’d been turned into could bear another heartbreak. Now, seeing Emma like that, he had his answer: it could.

«At first...» Her voice failed her as more sobs wretched her fragile body. Emma took a deep breath, both her trembling hands now clutching tightly Mister Rabbit to her heart. «At first I didn’t understand, I was in pain because I’d just given birth, it looked like she’d just taken Alice away from me, but then… then I turned around and saw her with Alice crying in her arms inside the tower. I tried to break the mirror, smash it with all I had in that blasted tower, but I was too weak. It was enchanted, of course, and with- with my magic bound I couldn’t do anything.» She closed her eyes, burying her nose in the stuffed animal, searching for a scent she didn’t know just so she could smell her daughter, even just once. «Then you came back and she lied to you, told you I asked to s-speed up the pregnancy and left you with Alice and I screamed so much, hoping you would hear me but you didn’t.»

A soft thump sounded deaf in his ears, echo of his first tear hitting his leather coat. Although she could’ve come up with this tale to trick him, he didn’t believe it, not when she was so fragile she could break with a gust of wind. _No_ , Killian thought, _she’s already broken, just like me_.

«You know what the worst thing was, apart from being separated from her… from the both of you? That it wasn’t only my heart that wanted to cross the mirror, but my body did, too. For months I knew the exact time Alice was hungry, I didn’t even need her cries to know, m-my breasts they _hurt_ , Killian, they hurt so much, needing to feed her, but I couldn’t, I couldn’t be there for here even though I _was_. When- The first time you left to gather supplies, Gothel came back. It’d been days since I gave birth and I wasn’t eating, I couldn’t bring myself to step away from the mirror, I wasn’t eating… I was barely surviving.» Taking a deep breath, Emma tried to calm her breath, failing miserably. «She ordered me to eat, threatened to torture Alice. I wouldn’t had put past her, and I couldn’t risk my own daughter’s life. I would eat and wash and sleep a bit, but my time would always be spent in front of the mirror. I even dragged pillows and blankets there so I could always keep an eye on you two, and when you were on the bed, I would sit at the vanity for hours just looking at how perfect my little baby was and how wonderful a father you were.»

She wasn’t looking at him, lost in painful memories, and Killian was still crying, not telling himself he’d been stupid to think she’d leave them, but loathing himself for those thoughts. Somehow, he knew Emma would understand, that she would forgive him because there was _nothing_ to forgive, because his thoughts were legitimate, but he still would feel guilty for thinking something like that, just like she would forever feel as if she’d abandoned Alice. A sad smile formed onto his face at the thought that they both were broken people once again finding each other.

«I watched her grow, and watched you teach her everything you know, how to fight, how to be brave, how to be free to be herself even if she couldn’t journey the realms with you, just like you taught me.» She still wasn’t looking at him and he was still clutching his cutlass, but neither of them could move an inch. «The years you spent with her… I can’t say I didn’t suffer, but I was happy anyway because she had you, because at least she could count on you for everything, because you were her Papa, her _hero_ , just like-» Emma cut herself off, shaking her head. Killian couldn’t stop the flutter of the broken pieces of his heart in his chest. Suddenly, her expression grew dark, the entire castle seemed to sink into a strange darkness too. «And then the witch cursed you, and I was so angry, Killian, at you, at her, but mostly at myself, because once again I couldn’t protect the people I loved. All I wanted to do after you fell from the tower was hug Alice and tell her everything would be alright but I _couldn’t_. I couldn’t do anything and my baby was all alone.»

A giant puddle formed a few feet away from them, the giant’s tears falling on the ground as he too listened to the story.

«Her cries for you, oh, Killian, it was heart breaking. When you were away she would silently cry herself to sleep, but after the curse she would wake up screaming for you. She was so close to me yet so far away, I couldn’t comfort her in anyway, I never could.» A bright yet sad smile blossomed on Emma’s face, lighting up her eyes, still lost in her thoughts. «But she’s your daughter under every aspect, Killian, she’s _strong_ and turned her fears into strength, standing up to Gothel and fighting her nightmares away, finding courage inside herself because you taught her so.»

Killian closed his eyes, memories of Alice flooding his mind, his heart beating wildly in his chest at Emma’s words, pride swelling inside him. More tears ran down his face, tears he’d not allowed himself to cry in a long time.

«On her last birthday, just moments before she blew her candle, pierced on top of a slightly burned chocolate muffin, Gothel appeared in the tower.» Emma broke into more sobs; although he _wanted_ to go to her and brush her tears away, Killian found himself unable to move. «S-she covered the mirror so I couldn’t see what she did to Alice, I had no idea what she could want from my baby, but then Alice started to scream and it happened so fast. There was a-a blinding light, so white and powerful it blinded me through the fabric and the mirror and then… then I was surrounded by thousands of shards cutting into my skin and something strong pushing me backwards. I remember waking up on the ground, surrounded by what remained of the looking glass and the tower around me and the beanstalk in its wake. I wanted to search for Alice, for you… I screamed her name, hoping she would reply, that she had s-sur-survived the fall…» Her voice broke, just like his heart did. «Blue found me mere moments later. She told me she’d felt my magic coming back. I tried to protest, saying I couldn’t let my daughter alone, not again, not when Gothel was out there and could still hurt her. But Killian, Gothel is dead.»

It hit him how the happiness he felt at the news was still drowned by the pain of not knowing where Alice was and the heartbreak resulting from Emma’s words. He wanted to talk, wanted to ask her how was she so sure the witch was dead and Alice-

Once again, her voice interrupted his thoughts. «Gothel, she is inside the beanstalk. I don’t know how, I think one of the vines, or whatever they are, pierced through her and she’s… somehow, she’s inside the beanstalk. Alice isn’t. I don’t know where she is, Killian.» It was only then that Emma allowed herself to fall down on her knees, succumbing to all the pain she’d endured during all those years trapped behind the looking glass. «I wish…» her voice broke and she buried her face into Mister Rabbit. «I wish…» Another sob, as if she didn’t want to even _dare_ wishing anymore, because all her wishes had never come true. «I wish she would come back to me.»

«Papa? Mama?»

Both Emma and Killian stiffened. It wasn’t real, it _couldn’t_ be real. It was impossible, just… impossible. That wasn’t her voice, that wasn’t _her_.

Emma’s face was still hidden behind the toy, her entire body trembling so slightly it was barely noticeable. As for himself, Killian couldn’t move either, not until…

«Is it really you?»

He turned around, he didn’t even realize he did so, his heart hurting inside his chest in every way, emotionally and physically. The cutlass hit the stone floor with a loud clang.

«Alice?» Killian whispered, eyes wide as he took her in. She wasn’t a child anymore, but it was _her_ , of that he had no doubt: he could recognize his own eyes, Liam’s eyes, his _mother_ ’s eyes everywhere. His daughter was now a beautiful young woman, her long golden curls reaching just above her waist and her smile, oh, how he’d missed her warm smile, _Emma_ ’s smile.

«Yes, yes, it’s me.»

She was beautiful. And she was _here_. She came back, just like Emma- _Emma_.

Killian turned his head, his eyes falling on Emma’s crouched form. He knew why she hadn’t looked up yet, why she hadn’t looked at Alice: she thought it was a dream, no, a _nightmare_ , another one, one she’d made a thousand times already.

Slowly, he made his way towards Emma, kneeling down beside her, touching her for the first time in years, her skin as soft as he remembered. Memories rushed into his mind, memories he’d fought to keep out. Until now. He still feared her, because she still held the power of crushing him, of crushing his heart. _But she never did_ , his heart seemed to whisper in his ear.

«Emma,» he murmured gently, tucking a strand of ear behind her ear, making her flinch. «Emma, love, she’s here. It’s not a trick, she’s real.» It pained him that Emma couldn’t believe their daughter was actually there. How many times had she dreamed of meeting her, touching her, just for it to turn out to be a nightmare?

Slowly, he helped her to her feet, but she still wouldn’t look at Alice, whose eyes were now filled with tears, too. Although she’d never asked about her mother, Alice probably longed to hug her, too. Emma’s hand grabbed Killian’s, her nails digging into his flesh, begging him to never let her go.

A gasp left Emma’s lips as she finally laid eyes on Alice for the first time, realizing she could finally touch her. Reluctantly letting his hand go and with trembling steps, her other hand holding Mister Rabbit to her, Emma made her way towards Alice. Killian wanted to go with her, wanted to finally touch his daughter, but aside from not being able to do so because of the curse, he didn’t because it wasn’t about him, but about _them_.

«Alice,» he heard Emma whisper reverently, raising a hand and caressing her cheek with the tips of her thin fingers.

«Yes, Mama, it’s me,» Alice said, stepping forward as Emma fell into her arms. In that moment, Killian’s heart felt whole.

«Oh, Alice, my baby,» Emma cried, burying her head in Alice’s hair and cupping the back of her head, slightly rocking her as if she was still a newborn, an act she’d never been able of doing when she had the chance.

«Mama,» their daughter repeated, her arms tightening around her mother’s form, warm tears of joy falling into her hair. «I’ve missed you so much.»

That caught his attention, and he could see Emma stiffen; even turned away from him, he could still _feel_ what she was thinking: she was blaming herself for not having been there even though she was.

Alice noticed her mother’s reaction and pulled away enough to look her in the eyes. «No, Mama, no! Do not blame yourself! I know you were there, I’ve always known.»

Killian frowned, and so did Emma. He was tempted to step forward, to ask her how she could possibly know – and why she had never told him she knew where her mother was – but the course, bloody hell, he could feel the pain starting to weaken him. Killian had not let go of a single whimper, Alice’s vicinity too much to bear, but Killian Jones was a man who suffered in silence, this time would be no exception.

Alice gave Emma a small, sad smile. «I’ve always been able to see you, Mama. I could hear you sing to me when I couldn’t sleep, I remember your prayer.» What Alice didn’t add was that she remembered her cries, her pain. Not that it was needed, Killian could see the pain in her eyes, and sure as hell Emma could, too. «I-I’m sorry, Mama, I never told Papa about you because I thought the witch would hurt you if she knew I could see and hear you. That’s why I used to spend time in front of the mirror, to have tea parties in front of you just so you could watch me and I would tell you about my day or my dreams. I didn’t want you to feel left out.»

Killian could hear a low whimper coming from Emma’s mouth, a string of words repeated into Alice’s hair: _oh, baby_.

Of course, he’d never thought much about Alice always staying in front of the mirror, it wasn’t as if she’d anywhere else to go, but knowing there was a reason and that reason being her mother just broke and mended his heart all over again.

He didn’t know how much time passed, he didn’t care, hell, he didn’t notice the giant had – surprisingly – quietly gone somewhere else to give them the privacy they deserved, but one thing he knew for sure: he could spend _ages_ just looking at mother and daughter hugging each other.

At one point, minutes, hours, _years_ later, he saw Emma stiffen once again. There were hushed whispered exchanged between them, but in the end, Emma kissed Alice on her cheeks and forehead before taking a deep breath and turning around.

Although the imprisonment in the tower had left her so malnourished and weak, Emma still managed to show strength as she stepped towards him, a fire in her green eyes behind which he could see fear and hesitation.

She stopped a few feet away from him and took a deep breath. «As I slowly recovered in Misthaven, I searched for a cure. Unfortunately, the curse of the poisoned heart doesn’t work like other curses, much like the spell surrounding the tower, and it can’t be broken with a True Love’s kiss.» Another deep breath; Killian focused on it in order to stay calm and not let the pain, physical and metaphorical, show on his face. «But I did find another way. You- you don’t have to have anything to do with me, you and Alice can go on your way, if you want, I… I would understand. You don’t have to owe me nothing.»

Confused, Killian furrowed his brow. Before he could ask her what she meant, Emma reached up with her hand in front of her – she’d left Mister Rabbit with Alice – and plunged it into her chest.

A gasp flew past his lips, but soon, Emma pulled her hand out, a bright, red heart glowing in her palm. «It was my mother who suggested it. Well, she was mostly speculating, but I thought… with a heart that wasn’t yours, yet it somehow was, you would still be able to live and go near Alice, to hug and kiss her and _live_ with her.»

Killian was speechless. «No, Emma, I-I can’t take your heart,» he began, but she was already shaking her head and stepping forward, holding her pulsating heart onto her palms like an offering.

«No, Killian, you wouldn’t be _taking_ it, _I_ am giving it to you,» she replied, two tears wetting her skin as a smile brightened her face. In an unexpected move, Emma broke the heart in two, the halves identical. Another step forward and she was mere inches from him; with his breath he could ruffle her hair. «Besides, it’s been yours since you first came back to me.»

With those words, Emma pushed half of her heart into his chest.

Killian grunted and fell forward, right into Emma’s arms. He closed his eyes, darkness surrounding him for the briefest of moments, the feeling of having his own heart – or what little remained of it – the feeling of _dying_ for even just the tiniest moment destabilized him. But then, then all the pain he’d felt seconds before was gone.

It was a strange feeling, having a new heart that actually was _half_ a heart, and a not-cursed one. Opening his eyes, he realized he was still supported by Emma, whom he could feel shake under his weight. He pulled away, concern marring his face as he searched her eyes to see if she was alright. In response, she gave him a feeble smile and gulped before putting her half of her heart inside her chest.

«Alice was right,» Killian heard her whisper. Confused, he tilted his head, and Emma’s smile just widened, becoming real and brightening her face. «She told me it would work. All along, she knew. She’s special, Killian, and I can’t thank you enough for having raised her perfectly.»

Suddenly afraid, Killian’s head snapped towards a waiting Alice, the way she clutched Mister Rabbit to her chest reminding him of how Emma had done the same just earlier. His demons, his _fears_ paralyzed him: what if it had not worked? What if Emma had given up half of her heart for nothing?

But then there was the lack of pain, Alice’s words whispered to her mother, and he stepped towards her. There was no pain. Another step, and the pain just _wasn’t_ there, just the memory of it. One more step and he was sprinting to Alice just as she broke into a run herself.

Their body collided and Killian took her into his arms, lifting her without any effort though she now weighted way more than she had when he last saw her, cupping the back of her head just like Emma had done in a natural way.

«Starfish,» he breathed into her hair. He could smell salt, as if she’d been near the sea, and oranges. Oh, how he’d missed her.

«Papa,» Alice giggled in reply, hugging him with all she had, not caring if she was almost suffocating him, Killian didn’t mind either, he was just too happy to feel anything else.

He basked in the hug for what could’ve been decades and he still wouldn’t have been enough. Alas, Alice pulled away, her free hand finding his and squeezing before pulling him along with her towards Emma, who’d been watching them the same way he did them.

«From now on, we will never be parted again,» Alice spoke, offering Emma the hand that still held Mister Rabbit, at which Emma chuckled before grabbing the toy, «unless it’s under common agreement, of course. From now on, we will be a family.»

Killian knew there were bumpy seas ahead, that it would take time to mend the relationship between Emma and himself, that even if she’d not told him she loved him, her words earlier were enough for him, but in that moment, when he found himself hugging the two women he loved more than life itself, as his daughter kept her head on his shoulder and her mother held hers a bit lower to feel the heart that had always been his steady beating, Killian felt whole.

He felt _home_.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So so so sorry for the long wait! I didn’t think I would take this long to finish this, but I finally did it! As you can see, I added a chapter, mostly because I needed to tie loose ends - and luckily I did, this beast is 9k words long!
> 
> I also have to confess most of what happens with Snow in this chapter is Snow’s fault, she literally took life and forced me to write her actions. 
> 
> Thank you for every word you send my way and every like/kudo/reblog, whatever I really appreciate them.
> 
> (And thanks to the lovely ladies in the discord chat for putting up with me when I didn’t know when to write the thing).
> 
> Feel free to visit me on my tumblr at @darkcolinodonorgasm ;)

Falling back into the easy relationship they had had in the beginning wasn’t easy, much like it wasn’t easy for Emma to settle into his and Alice’s lives, or to be the lost Princess of Misthaven.

Rationally, Emma knew she had to go back, as much as she wanted to stay with them, she also missed her parents, the little time spent at the castle before she started searching for Alice not enough to heal her completely, both physically and psychologically.

They didn’t fight, not even remotely, Killian and Alice stubbornly deciding they would stay with Emma wherever she needed to be, because they were _family_. Plus, unlike Killian, Alice was dying to meet her grandparents.

Anton helped them down the beanstalk, lowering them safely to the ground through a basket, allowing Emma to see over the trees, far far away where land met the sea, her mind trying to recall whose castles were the ones she saw until her eyes fell on hers, almost a tiny spot in the distance she could clearly see only through Alice’s spyglass.

Slowly, they then made their way to the little town in which Killian had found help during the years, finding his trustworthy first mate too. Mister Smee, of course, knew all about Alice and Emma, therefore he was surprised when he was introduced to the “woman who left” and the Captain’s “little Starfish”, especially when said Starfish wasn’t little at all.

They set course for Misthaven; with winds in their favour and the _Jolly_ ’s speed they only had about a week and a half to spend at sea ahead of them. The real problem was sleeping arrangements. Although the Captain’s quarters were Killian’s, his first thought was letting Alice sleep in the bunk while he would just hang a hammock there to look over her. But then he remembered his sweet daughter wasn’t a child anymore – the hows and whys he would come to know later that evening – and there was Emma to think about, too.

After almost two decades spent in the tower all alone, one would think it was easy for her meeting new people, lots of them. It wasn’t. He could see her keeping her eyes low, shying away every time someone passed near her, someone that wasn’t him or their daughter, who was currently holding her hand tightly as if to keep her calm.

As if sensing his thoughts, Alice looked up at him. «Why don’t we bunk all together? We have so much to tell each other.»

And so the sleeping arrangements were decided, with Emma and Alice occupying the bed and Killian ending up hanging that hammock. As they sailed towards Misthaven, though, tension filled the air up until Alice started to tell them about what happened after the tower exploded.

The beanstalk had, somehow, brought her up instead of killing her like it had Gothel. Being her father’s daughter through and through, Alice had convinced Anton to help her by helping him, her instinct knowing she could – and needed to – help him grow the magic beans.

«Anton wept when the plants started to grow,» Alice told her parents, speaking fondly of her giant friend as she held a cup of warm tea in her hands, just like Killian and Emma. «I knew leaving in the middle of the night was bad form, but I felt the need to go. I wrote him a thank you note and left Mister Rabbit with him, although I didn’t want to leave him.» Her confession earned a kiss on her temple by her mother, who couldn’t keep herself from touching her.

«What happened then?» Emma asked, her fingers twirling a strand of Alice’s blonde hair.

«I ended up in Wonderland. Nice place, by the way. Well, most of it is. Anyway, there I met Cora, the Queen of Hearts.»

«You _what_?» Killian exclaimed, concerned. Sure, Cora had given him precious information, but it didn’t change the fact that she’d literally held his heart in the palm of her hand and that she was the Evil Queen’s mother. His eyes shifted on Emma, who’d blanched, her hands trembling slightly. Of course she still feared Regina and Cora, unlike Gothel they weren’t dead yet, and thus a possible enemy. Instinctively, Killian reached his hand out to gently grab her free one, squeezing it lightly. In turn, Emma intertwined their fingers, squeezing back.

Alice rolled her eyes with a sigh. «She was… fine, alright? I thought that with her being the Queen of _Hearts_ she could help me. Which, by the way, she didn’t, but she didn’t hurt me either. I stayed with her for a week or so before I met Ana and Will, the Red Queen and King. You know another Alice went to Wonderland? She now lives with her husband and daughter in another realm. The dress there are wonderful! And they really know how to have a tea party, although nothing beats Grace and her father’s parties, those were _awesome_.»

Killian and Emma listened to her with rapt attention as she told them about her adventures in Wonderland, how she grew as high as a tree and as little as a mouse, how the White Rabbit and his family took her in and helped her jump through realms sometimes, how she fought off the Mome Raths and Bandersnatches.

After Wonderland, her research for a cure had continued, ending up in Agrabah and Arendelle and all the places in which Killian had searched for a way to free Emma. The thought of his daughter getting to see the world both delighted and saddened him, because he’d hoped they would do it together. He wondered if they could do that in the future.

«I thought I’d found some answers in Neverland but-»

«You _what_?» Killian cut her off once again, anger rising in his throat. «Alice, I told you about Neverland only to warn you about its perils, not for you to go there!»

At least, Alice had the decency to seem chastised. «I know, I’m sorry, Papa, but I had to see if Pan had a cure. He didn’t, of course, but you know I had to try.»

Aye, he knew, though he wished she hadn’t to and that she didn’t. Emma’s comforting caresses with her thumb helped him calm down a bit. By the time Alice had told them how she’d stayed in the Land of Untold Stories in the company of a man named Nemo – at his mention Killian stiffened, filing that information away for later – his cup of tea had gotten cold, unlike Emma’s or Alice’s, who had already finished theirs. It definitely was because he’d kept his hand in Emma’s, but he didn’t regret it at all.

«How are you so old?» Emma blurted out at one point, her voice full of sadness. Killian knew why: when she’d been freed from the tower, Emma though she would’ve had time to spend with Alice, to see her grow up and actually be there for her.

Alice must’ve sensed her mother’s distress because, she squeezed her free hand. «Time runs faster in Wonderland while it’s still in Neverland and in the Land of Untold Stories. I spent too much time in Wonderland for my liking, but, uh, apparently the Jabberwocky hadn’t been defeated and thus we had to join forces against her. Cora helped, but of course everyone fears something. It went on for years, that’s why my journey was delayed.»

Killian had only heard about the Jabberwocky, but if the rumours were true, Alice had faced something even worse than Pan. He closed his eyes for a brief minute, not wondering what her fears were because he could imagine them.

«If… if you knew I was there the entire time,» Emma asked her slowly, as if bracing for more pain, «why didn’t you search for me or come to Misthaven? We could’ve searched for a cure together.» _You wouldn’t have to grow up alone._

Alice’s eyes filled with tears. «I’m so sorry, Mama, I thought it would take me less time but then someone freed the Jabberwocky and she attacked us and-» A sob cut her off and she launched into her mother’s arms. «It was horrible.»

Emma looked at him from over their daughter’s head as she rubbed Alice’s back with her free hand. The fact that Alice had sought refuge in Emma’s arms didn’t hurt Killian, albeit he couldn’t help the pang of jealousy he felt, immediately banished because if there was someone deserving of comforting Alice it was Emma.

Once Alice had calmed down, they decided it was time for her to rest. Alice didn’t protest, knowing her parents had many things to talk about in private. Killian had actually insisted Emma rest, too, but one look from the woman had quickly shut him up.

They were now alone on the quarterdeck where they wouldn’t be disturbed by the crew, Emma wrapped up in a thick blanket. They spent long minutes in silence, the only noises the waves caressing the wooden hull and the quiet murmuring of the men.

«My parents will put up a fight,» Emma announced with a death glare towards the ocean. The ocean didn’t deserve her fury, but, apparently, her parents did. «Well, my father, mostly, but it’s so hypocritical.» Alright then, her father did.

She was standing with her forearms propped over the railing, her skinny fingers gripping the blanket and tightening it around her body.

Killian raised an eyebrow, unable of not feeling protective towards his daughter. «Why would you say that?» he inquired, a warning in his tone, a warning Emma didn’t need because she was just like him.

Emma huffed. «You know he was a shepherd, right? I thought, gods, I thought they would understand, instead they wanted to keep me there and _ugh_ , I hated it, I hated _them_.» She closed her eyes, breathing in deeply to calm herself down. «It’s an awful thing to say, I know, especially because I missed them so much. But they didn’t see me grow up, they don’t understand me, they treated me as if I still were a child.»

He moved closer, his hand hovering over her back. He clenched his fist before he could touch her. «What do you want to do?» _About Alice, about them, about…_ me _?_

After taking a deep breath, Emma turned to him, looking straight into his eyes. Oh, how he’d missed those green eyes. « _I_ want us to be a family, Killian. Of course, I didn’t expect Alice to be twenty already, but it doesn’t change anything. _I_ want my parents to understand I’m not the little girl they let slip away between their fingers, that I’m not the little duckling they remember. _I_ want me and you to-» she cut herself off before she could say something he wasn’t ready to hear. «I would love to go back to how things were between us, but I can’t demand this from you, not after everything I put you through…»

Killian sighed, bowing his head. He placed his hand between her shoulder blades, almost feeling sick when he could sense her bones even through her clothes and the blanket. «Emma, I-» he exhaled, «Alice will always come first, I believe we both agree on that, but I can’t say you didn’t break my heart or, well, rather, I thought you did, and that left a deep scar on it.»

She wasn’t looking at him, nor he’d expected her to, so he made her turn towards him, using his hook to make her lift her chin so she would look him in the eyes again. There was hurt in her eyes, and self-loathing, because of course she was blaming herself for the state his heart was in, and even though he _had_ blamed her, Killian also couldn’t deny that it had all been a ruse, a lie. No, Emma wasn’t to blame, she was a victim, just like him.

«I know it’s not your fault, Emma, I know it _now_ , but my mind and my heart have tried to hate you for so long and this can’t change in the course of a few hours.» He searched her eyes and wasn’t disappointed in the glimmer of hope he saw, immediately snuffed out because she couldn’t allow herself to hope. Slowly, Killian caressed her soft cheek with his knuckles, grazing the corner of her mouth with the tip of his thumb. «There are bumpy seas ahead, but we have overcome so much in our lives I have no doubt we will overcome this. We had something so beautiful once when there was only the two of us, you trusted me when you shouldn’t have been able to trust anyone and yet you did. Now I beg you, love, please, be patient with me.»

A small smile pulled up the corners of Emma’s lips. She placed her hands on his chest, her right one right above where his – _their_ – heart was beating wildly. «You don’t owe me anything, Killian, you know that, but I can promise you this: I will take care of your heart. I hope it still is my duty to do so.»

Killian couldn’t help but mirror her smile, his heart fluttering inside his chest. «Well, it still is yours, isn’t it?» he tried to joke even though his words were true.

Furrowing her brow, Emma blinked several times. «Actually, I don’t know how this split heart thing works...»

«Metaphorically speaking.»

She hummed, her head coming to rest against his chest as his arms circled her tiny figure. Killian would make sure she would recover, Emma had spent already too much time wasting herself away like that. Things needed to change, she needed to get better, especially for herself. He dropped a kiss on her head, his nostrils immediately filling with her scent of roses. A smile tugged at his lips.

«Killian?» came her muffled voice.

«Aye, love?»

A moment of silence. «Will you teach me about the stars I couldn’t see from the tower?»

A heartbeat. «As you wish.»

* * *

 

 

Killian wasn’t ready. Emma wasn’t ready. Alice, of course, was.

Of course he wasn’t: the last time he’d thought he would be meeting a lass’ parents was when he was a Lieutenant something like three hundred years ago. Plus, he’d never thought he’d be courting a Princess, so that feeling of anxiety twisting his stomach in knots was forgiven.

From her part, Emma was ready for the fight, already angry at her parents.

«It will be all right, Mama,» he heard Alice say, but she, too, was anxious, twisting the hem of her cape.

Emma kept glaring at the castle, her jaw set. She turned to face Alice, her face suddenly sweeter. «Whatever happens with them, I won’t abandon you. I will always, _always_ choose you. Understand?»

Alice smiled softly at her. «I know,» she replied, resting her head on her shoulder.

Looking at them, Killian could see the similarities: it wasn’t just because they both had golden hair, but also their lips and high cheekbones, the shape of their eyes, but mostly it was their smiles. His heart fluttered in his chest as he was leaning with his hip against the railing.

There was still much to discuss, but if he could have it his way, the first thing they had to do was helping Emma recover. As much as her heart needed it, her body did, too. Killian remembered how perfect her body was and how full of life she was.

Emma breathed in deeply, took Alice’s hand in hers, and stepped forward, disembarking the ship. Killian followed them, biting back a gasp when Emma grabbed his hook; he’d forgotten how much she understood and accepted him.

Slowly, mostly allowing Alice to take everything in, they made their way to the castle. Not knowing their Princess had returned, people didn’t spend much time looking at them, save for a quick surprised glance in their direction.

It didn’t take them long, but when they found themselves in front of the castle, Emma stopped, her hands squeezing Alice’s and Killian’s hook. Knowing she needed reassurance, Killian brought her hand up to kiss it.

Giving him a soft, loving smile, Emma exhaled and stepped forward. «Let’s do this.»

Snow White’s cry wrenched Killian’s heart, her expression so similar to Emma’s when she was reunited with Alice. The woman’s features were soft and beautiful, her complexion literally as white as snow and there was no doubt her hair was once ebony black. Just like Emma had done with Alice, her mother cradled her head with her hand.

Emma was stiff in her mother’s arms, not embracing her because her hands were still otherwise occupied, never letting go of them.

«Sweetheart, oh how relieved I am that you made it back safely. Your father and I were worried sick.»

Honestly, Killian could see why Emma was angry: there was no way in hell that Liam would’ve let him leave on his own to search for his child, and Killian wouldn’t let Liam go alone either. After everything Emma had gone through, her parents’ reaction was disappointing. It hurt.

Emma stepped back, her eyes boring into her mother’s in challenge. «Yes, I am, but say another word against _my_ family and I will walk away and never come back.»

The Queen’s face crumpled at her daughter’s words, tears shining in her light eyes as she nodded. «Of course, of course, Emma, I-I didn’t want to say those awful things to you. I’m so sorry, Emma.»

«It’s not me you should apologize to, mother,» Emma all but spat, which made Killian wonder what kind of words had flown between them. Fury bubbled up inside him at the thought that they could’ve accused her of becoming a… a woman of loose morals. He couldn’t believe her parents had not searched every land for her, and he shouldn’t judge them, because he’d somehow left Alice, too. But what excuse did Emma’s parents have? Certainly, their hearts had not been cursed the same way his had.

«You are completely right, Emma. Will you-» Snow’s eyes flickered between him and Alice, his back stiffening. The woman shook her head, a small, shy smile blossoming on her face. «You must be Killian and Alice. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.»

Somehow, Killian doubted it. Snow White didn’t seem a bad person, but he suspected she was quite posh. Biting back all he wanted to tell her, he let his mouth stretch into a smile and bowed. «The pleasure is all mine, Your Majesty,» Killian lied, knowing he had to play nice.

«Please, just call me Snow,» the Queen smiled at him, her eyes then shifting onto Alice. Killian looked at his daughter, seeing her brows furrowed.

«You don’t like me,» his daughter blurted, surprising everyone. «You don’t like the idea of your daughter having had a child out of wedlock, doesn’t matter if they are true love.»

Alice had always been perceptive, perhaps too much for her own good, yet he couldn’t help but be glad she’d called out her own grandmother on that. Emma surely knew what her mother thought, but had wisely hidden it from Alice not to make her suffer. A prudent decision, yet useless.

Shock marred the older woman’s face. Her reaction, however, surprised Killian. While some other Queen would backhand her for her contumacy, Snow lowered her gaze, ashamed. «You’re right, partially. I do not hate you, Alice, it’s the circumstances of your conception that I do not like. Not only your mother was away from home, locked up in a tower, but-»

« _But_ ,» Emma cut her mother off, «your wonderful grandmother, Alice, does not like the fact that Killian is a pirate. She won’t acknowledge the fact that he gave up his revenge and his piracy ways for you and me, that he raised you when he thought me gone and was so heartbroken he could’ve left you in the tower same as _they_ left me there. Why don’t you tell your granddaughter how you thought I was some kind of whore when Blue brought me back here, mother? That it took you almost a week to come into the _guest_ room I was sleeping in? That you tried to convince me Killian and Alice didn’t exist, that you wanted me to drink a memory potion to forget about them and even fucking locked me up I had to escape through the window? And you know what? Apparently, Cora Mills has been more welcoming than you.»

«That’s enough, duckling.»

Emma pressed her lips into a thin line, her jaw clenched and her green eyes thundering. «I won’t apologize for stating the truth.»

Her father came into view in the empty throne room, oozing out authority as he made his way towards them, a long red cloak on his shoulders. «Of course you won’t, you’re stubborn to a fault, but also loyal to your own mind. It’s something I’ve always loved about you, sweetheart.» King James – or David, whatever his real name was – stopped next to his wife, whose chin was violently quivering and her eyes shone with unshed tears. Killian didn’t pity her one bit. The man, however, was a different matter entirely.

David’s eyes fell on Alice, a tender smile pulling at his lips. «Why don’t we take this to the library? Would you concede me the honour, milady?» he said offering her his arm, and Killian watched in awe as his daughter’s expression shifted into one of glee before looping her own arm through her grandfather’s.

Snow followed them out of the throne room, leaving just Emma and Killian. «I’m sorry,» Emma sighed, dropping her head. «I didn’t know I could react like this.»

Killian shook his head, moving his hand up to cup her jaw. «Your reaction makes perfectly sense, Emma, especially when you’ve been locked up in a tower for so long. I can’t imagine how you felt when she did that, but it’s comprehensible that you felt betrayed. She’s supposed to be your mother, not another Gothel.»

«It’s just… all these years I’ve had these lovely memories of her, and now they look like lies.» Emma sighed, resting her forehead against Killian’s shoulder, the leather carrying his scent to her nose. Killian pressed his lips against her hair, nuzzling his nose against it.

«I wish I could challenge her to a duel for what she did to you,» he muttered, making Emma giggle despite the situation, pulling a smile from his own lips. «For now, let’s go rescue our daughter from falling too much in love with her grandparents.»

Emma shook her head. «It would be impossible for her not to love them,» she spoke fondly, meeting Killian’s bright blue eyes, «you taught her to be loving, to have a gentle heart.» Saying so, Emma placed her free hand right onto his – _their_ – beating heart. Killian bet she could feel his heartbeat speed up.

He wanted to kiss her, to brush his lips against hers, wondering if she tasted the same after all this time. He wanted to wrap her in his arms, hold her close and never let her go. «Don’t forget, love, you taught how to be strong, too.» Reminded once again of her time spend behind the mirror, Emma lowered her gaze, but Killian tutted. «None of that, Emma: you’ve managed to resist years and she could see you. In your own way, you showed her how to survive through hell.»

Her eyes flickered up to meet his, her lips parting as his words poured out of his lips. Surprising him, she pushed up to her tiptoes and pressed her lips on his bearded cheek, the contact sparkling a fire inside him, heat pooling in his belly as he briefly closed his eyes, wanting to turn his head and kiss her. Instead, Killian just tightened his arm around her.

They stayed there for a few more moments, simply basking in each other’s presence.

«We should go,» Emma whispered, not moving at all, not until someone cleared their voice behind them. Of course, it was Emma’s father.

Heat rose to Killian’s cheeks, up until the tips of his ears. He felt like a green lad caught casting yearning gazes at some beautiful young lass. However, neither of them moved to distance from one another, simply hurrying together past the King out of the throne room, a secret smile on his lips.

Emma led him through the hallways to the library, an enormous room, way larger than the one he used to study in when he was a naval officer. He was fascinated to say the least, wanting to search through the titles and lose himself in tales of adventure, his passion for those one of the reasons why he always brought Emma and Alice books to read: if they couldn’t go on adventures, the least he could do was bring those adventures to them.

His attention shifted towards the marble fireplace in front of which were positioned comfy chairs and settees around a low wooden table with legs shaped like swans. Carefully arranged on the table were placed trays of sweets, some of which he’d never seen before, and a white tea set with bluebirds delicately painted over the ceramic. However, it wasn’t tea that was slowly getting cold, but what looked like hot chocolate.

«Alice informed me it was your favourite drink, Captain,» Snow’s voice came uncertain from one of the settees, the one in front of her occupied by Alice, who was sitting in a slight more relaxed position, definitely one her grandmother would scold her for.

He nodded his head. «Aye, thank you, Your- _Snow_ ,» he said, the name foreign on his lips. Killian glanced at Emma, seeing her jaw clenched and wrapped his arm around her and gently leading her to the settee Alice occupied, making sure mother and daughter were next to each other, needing the comfort they could take from each other.

The King sat down next to his wife, his eyes carefully trained on him, not exactly suspicious but not trusting, either. Of course, Killian could understand his sentiment pretty well, and he knew the first misstep would probably lead him to be escorted to the dungeons.

Silence fell upon them, all awkwardly trying to avoid uncomfortable gazes and not actually touching cups or desserts. Aside from Alice, of course, who seemed to love the orange marmalade cake, wolfing it down with no much care of manners. Killian’s inner Lieutenant shivered at that but didn’t say a word. He suspected Emma would rather starve to death instead of drinking or eating anything she was offered.

It was the King who broke the silence, Emma jumping slightly next to Killian. «Emma, your mother and I, we… we’re sorry. For everything: for not searching long enough for you, for not making you feel loved the way you deserve when you came back to us. But especially, for not trusting you.» He glanced at Snow, probably, hopefully, expecting her to state her apologies, the woman turning her head instead. «We thought you were dead,» David admitted shamefully. «We’ve searched for you, we _did_ , Emma, but… Blue couldn’t detect your magic, and Rumplestiltskin was no help either, not even-» A gulp. «Not even when we commanded him to find you.»

Killian couldn’t help but frown. When he’d visited the Dark One, the crocodile seemed to already know what he wanted, as usual when it came to that devil. If he knew, then why didn’t he tell them where Emma was? Unless the tower couldn’t be found, not by magical means, at least. Although he didn’t want to tell them the truth, ashamed of what he’d done after meeting the Dark One, but he owed it to Emma, and if it helped have an easier relationship with her parents, so be it. «The Dark One knew about the tower,» he said, immediately feeling Emma’s fingers tightening around his, her thumb tracing soothing circles on the back. «Several years ago, I sneaked into your dungeons, seeking answers: I wanted to know if there was any way to free Alice from the tower and the crocodile was my last hope. There was indeed a way, but I did something I’m not proud of and that bloody witch cursed my heart, forcing me out of the tower and away from my daughter.»

Alice’s hand had joined Emma’s upon his, making him understand neither of them blamed him for his action. Yes, they’d been hurt, but they’d also forgiven him.

It was David who looked more infuriated, though. «You sneaked into the dungeons? And you never thought you could ask us for help, tell us where Emma was, that she was still alive?»

«He thought I had abandoned them.» Emma’s quiet voice seemed to silence her father. Killian turned his head to look at her, remorse in his eyes and understanding in hers. «Killian had just returned from one of his voyages in search for a way to free me, only to find Gothel with Alice in her arms, claiming I-I had asked her to speed up the pregnancy so I could just leave the tower. It was all a lie, but Killian never knew until we met about two weeks ago. When he came here, he didn’t do it for me, but for Alice.»

«And you never thought to come her before Alice’s birth because we never searched hard enough for you,» David deduced, shame in his voice.

Killian nodded slowly. It wasn’t fair, he knew that, but at the time he’d also been selfish, wanting Emma to spend her freedom with him on the high seas next to him. Secretly, he wondered if she would still agree to just set sail and see the world.

Having Emma already told her parents what she’d had to endure after her daughter’s birth, what they wanted to know was how she’d managed to break Killian’s curse. Emma had told him it’d been Snow who’d suggested it, but after the display earlier in the throne room, he doubted the Queen had given her daughter time to tell her own story or to even listen to it.

His eyes were trained on Emma, how kept her low, fixated on their joined hands. «I’m sorry I lied to you, Killian. I didn’t- When I couldn’t find a goddamn cure, I went to Rumplestiltskin. Knowing about your past with him I knew that if I’d told to you it’d been him to suggest the split you wouldn’t have accepted it and I needed it to work.»

Killian was… well, for one, he was not angry. He understood, both why she’d gone to the crocodile and why she’d not told him that detail. Emma was right: had he known, Killian would’ve refused, no matter how much he longed to wrap his arms around his daughter again. _Desperate times call for desperate measures_ , he thought, lifting their joined hands to kiss Emma’s. «You don’t have to worry, love, I’m not mad.» he assured her, smiling softly before his lips formed a grimace. «But I have to know: what did you promise him?»

Emma bit her lower lip, almost tearing it with her teeth. «I promised I would make you keep your promise.»

_Of course_.

«What promise?» the King inquired, suspicious. There was little the Dark One could want, but there was one thing every man desired: freedom. «Oh, no, no, I won’t allow it.» At least the King wasn’t stupid.

«I made him a promise, father. It was you who taught me never to break one.» Emma’s words were a low blow, and while the crocodile could just stay in his cell forever, both Emma and Killian were people of honour.

«There is no guarantee he won’t hurt us, Emma!» It was her mother who spoke, choosing the worst moment to step into the conversation.

Rage reddened Emma’s complexion, her eyes reduced to two slits. «Oh, no, he won’t. Actually, he told me exactly what he wanted to do.» She cast a quick glance at Killian, but there wasn’t concern for him in her eyes, just sadness. «He’ll go searching for his son.»

Deep down, Killian knew it was logical: if there was someone the crocodile ever loved, well, it was his son. He didn’t know much about the man’s life, but Milah had left Bae with him because she knew he loved their child. At the time, Killian didn’t care, and it’d been his first mistake. Being an orphan himself, he couldn’t live – or love – someone who willingly abandoned her child, no matter if she left them with their father. He’d been so stupid, so blinded by lust and naivety and what he thought was love to see that Milah couldn’t love her child enough to stay or even take him with them.

«Very well, then,» David agreed, not liking the fact that he was disagreeing with his life, but knowing it was for the best, «we’ll see that he’ll keep his promise.»

It wasn’t the best of plans, but the Dark One did help them. _Twice_.

The topic then changed when Alice made a comment about the orange marmalade being the best one she ever tasted, even better than Wonderland’s. After that, her grandparents were more interested in hearing about her adventures.

Next to her, Emma slowly drank her hot chocolate, unable of resisting the hot beverage any longer, listening with rapt attention every word her daughter said, her body relaxing more and more against his, their hands separated just the time he needed to wrap his arm around her, drawing her closer to his chest. Time passed, Emma’s head growing heavier until Alice had to take the empty cup from her mother’s hand. She’d fallen asleep, exhausted.

Not caring about Snow’s hushed protests, Killian took Emma in his arms, asking the King where Emma’s bedchamber was, carrying her all the way there. He was concerned, her weight definitely unhealthy, her body weighing less than a feather.

Alice accompanied them, deciding he would need help when he found himself flustered, looking at Emma’s sleeping form, her clothes still on.

«I’ll take care of her, don’t you worry, Papa,» she told him, kissing him on the cheek before signalling him to go wait outside. When Alice came out ten minutes later, Killian peeked inside, seeing Emma sleeping peacefully on her side, long hair sprawled on the cushion in gentle golden curls, so different from when it was several feet long. He’d wondered why she kept it long still and not cut at least just above her shoulders, yet he couldn’t find in himself to complain. Besides, she deserved to be free to keep her hair long if she so desired without fear haunting her.

«Now you can go in.»

Alice’s voice made him shift his attention on her. She was leaning against a doorframe right in front of the one leading into Emma’s room, the door opened to reveal another huge and luxuriously decorated bedroom.

«And risking the King hanging me?»

His daughter raised an eyebrow, mirroring his signature gesture. Killian’s heart clenched in his chest: he’d missed so much, missed years he could never get back. «I am living proof you already have slept with her, the only one who would complain is Snow, but she’ll get ‘round. It depends on how long it’s going to take you to propose.»

«Alice,» Killian spoke in a warning tone, knowing his daughter meant well. They would need time, their hearts – heart? – needed to heal before giving themselves completely to one another.

Alice walked towards him, wrapping her arms around his torso like she used to do when she was younger. «I know, Papa, I know your heart has been shattered by the belief that she’d abandoned us, and I’m sorry I never told you she was always watching us from behind the mirror, I didn’t want to cause you any more pain, but if Gothel ever got word of it… I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you both. And before you say it’s not my fault, say your broken heart it’s not Mama’s. All she wanted was to raise me with you wherever you desired, whether it was in a cottage by the sea or on your own ship, showing us the world.»

Forcefully blinking away the tears stinging his eyes, Killian hugged his daughter, burying his nose in her hair, shorter and wilder than her mother’s but the same shade of gold nonetheless. There was so much he wanted to say, apologies he wanted to state over and over again even if Alice would just roll her eyes just like her mother would, not wanting to listen because there was nothing to forgive.

«Do you want me to tuck you in?»

The words escaped his mouth before he could stop them, his pale skin turning pink at Alice’s quiet laugh. «Not tonight,» she replied with a wink, «but perhaps, one of these evenings, we can read a book with Mama. Grampa gave me full access to the library.» _Uh, now he’s “Grampa”_ , Killian mused, his eyebrow lifting imperceptibly. Alice, of course, noticed. «Don’t be jealous.» She even _patted_ him on the shoulder.

Killian bristled at that. «I am not jealous,» he protested, suddenly more childish than he ever was in his life. Was this how it was supposed to be, having a family? He remembered very little of the time with his mother, and with his brother, well, Liam always made sure they would somehow survive, finding peace just when they were in the Navy. This, however, wasn’t exactly the same.

«Of course.» Alice gave him the same smile he used to wear whenever she protested she wasn’t sleepy as a yawn broke her protests or when she denied having eaten the marmalade when her cheeks and fingers were covered in it. «Goodnight, Papa.»

With a last hug and a kiss on the cheek, Alice waltzed into her bedroom, humming a tune under her breath. Killian watched her until the door closed behind her.

Sighing, he entered Emma’s room, glancing around, seeing a child’s touch, two dolls on her vanity, a knight in a shining armor and the other a naval officer sat next to different jewellery boxes and perfumes. Everything shone, and he knew her parents had arranged for her room to stay spotless all those years.

Shedding his coat, Killian draped it over a chaise lounge, considering sleeping on it for the briefest of moments. He shook his head, pulling off his boots and unbuttoning his vest but keeping it on as he laid down next to Emma. With his hook, he carefully brushed a few strands of hair away from her face, uncovering the dark circles around her eyes, now faded but still there, showing how tired she was.

From now on, she wouldn’t need to worry about their future, and neither of his feelings for her.

He kissed her forehead, removing hook and brace before settling down onto the blankets, immediately falling asleep the moment his head hit the pillow, dreaming of the future, something he’d not done in years.

* * *

 

There were roses in his mouth. He didn’t eat flowers.

Something tickled his nose, something soft that was also pressing down on his chest.

Killian’s eyes fluttered open, a soft light invading the room, spreading a deep red hue all around. Looking down, he saw a mass of golden curls spread all over his chest and face, Emma’s body curled up against his, her leg between his in a way that almost resembled a kitten in need of warmth. During the night she must’ve discarded the blankets and wrapped herself around him to steal his heat.

As if sensing he was awake, Emma started to stir, rubbing her delicious forms against him, reawakening sensations he’d thought buried deep within himself, sensation he’d not felt and had not cared about after Alice’s birth.

He gulped, his hand coming to rest on her hip. Memories of their past intercourses flooding his mind as the blood in his veins ran south. As much as he wanted to roll her onto her back and kiss every inch of her skin, Killian knew he couldn’t. His body might be ready, but his mind wasn’t.

It would be so easy to fall back into old habits and just let himself feel. He _wanted_ to feel, wanted to love Emma, and he _did_ , but he couldn’t help but being scared. All his life he’d known pain, whether it was tied to physical punishment or loss, but the moment he’d realized Emma had abandoned him, the lie had crept into his heart, breaking it and breaking _him_.

But it wasn’t fair, not to Emma, not to himself, not to _them_. Killian wanted to love her like she deserved to be loved, and he couldn’t do that unless he was completely sure he could fully give himself to her.

They needed to rediscover themselves, _Killian_ needed to trust not her, but himself.

Emma stretched, half her body draped over his. «’Morning,» she mumbled, burying her head into the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent. It took her a few minutes to understand where she was and whom she was rubbing herself against. Suddenly awake, she sat up, the loss of her body heat against his hurting him almost physically. «I-I’m sorry, Killian, I didn’t-» She stopped talking, red creeping under her nightgown as she took him in, her eyes roaming over his form. Killian gulped when she bit her lower lip.

«Don’t,» he stopped her, sitting up in the bed himself, his hand instantly going to cup her jaw. Last time they were in bed together they’d ended up with her on top of him, her golden hair cascading past her breasts in a precious waterfall as she took her own pleasure. The vivid memories had once been torture for him, now there only was longing left, an ardent desire of feeling her bare skin against his, of feeling himself sink into her wet, tight heat that still haunted his dreams.

As much as he once had separated feelings from physical pleasure when it came to bedding women, that had never been the case with Emma: even when he was blind and wasn’t ready to admit what he felt, there always was emotions involved. Killian Jones was one hell of a lover, he _did_ have a reputation, after all, but with Emma he’d discovered what making love to someone meant, different from all his past experiences.

Unconsciously, his thumb was tracing Emma’s plump lips, looking down at them with hunger, his mouth suddenly dry.

«W-we should go see what’s for breakfast,» she murmured, Killian feeling her lips moving under his fingertip. He nodded, not moving a muscle. Emma sighed, closing her eyes. «Killian, _please_ ,» she begged him, «I don’t want you to regret anything, I want you to be _sure_. It’s not been the same for me, my feelings for you haven’t changed, but I couldn’t live with myself if you came to regret this.»

Killian’s heart ached for her, she was sacrificing her own heart – figuratively, this time – just so he would take his time to heal from a wound she’d not inflicted. He wanted to tell her he loved her, that he didn’t need time, but that would be a lie. «Emma, love, I’m-»

Her fingers found their way upon his mouth, stopping him from apologising for something he needed. «Don’t,» Emma softly told him, her eyes shining with tears, «I will wait for you, no matter how long it’ll take. But one word, Killian, one word and I will never speak of my feelings again.»

In that moment, Killian felt the need of kissing her. He kissed the fingers pressed against his lips, and then shifted, kissing her shoulder, his hot breath becoming liquid fire as it filtered through the fabric.

From that moment on, every time he looked at her, Killian felt the urge to kiss her.

At first, it was subtle, there was no shift in his demeanour, always finding himself touching her, kissing her hand or hair in calming gestures, and while he never moved to actually kiss her mouth, Killian still found himself being more affectionate than ever before. Or, rather, it was like falling back into what he remembered being _them_.

They ate their meals together with Alice and Emma’s parents, those times always tense but getting better, with Snow apologising and Emma making an effort to recreate that mother-daughter bond they’d lost. What needn’t mending, however, was the solid bond between Emma and Alice, already so strong it amazed Killian. Of course, all her life Alice had never believed her mother wasn’t there because she could see and hear her and _love_ her, but what amazed him was how they understood each other, both mother and daughter and the three of them together, as if their minds were connected. It flustered Emma that, after all that time, Killian could still read her like an open book.

Soon, Killian started to regret teaching Alice how to play chess, especially when his daughter started to beat him every bloody time. However, he would play infinite games if it meant hearing Emma’s laugh every time Alice pronounced the words “checkmate” with a cheeky grin that resembled his own.

Whenever Emma laughed, sat with her legs beneath herself, her bare feet peeking out from the hem of her gown, Killian wanted to kiss her red-tinted cheeks, feeling her laugh beneath his lips and against his own body as she shook with laughter.

Just looking at her, Killian could see she was getting better, her appetite coming back and the sunshine making her skin look healthier, the freckles on her skin shining like golden stars. Slowly but surely, her body was becoming fuller, filling out new and simple dresses her mother had commissioned for her.

Alice, too, had new gowns, however she preferred a different kind of fashion, one she called “Victorian”. It suited her character, her free spirit. Snow didn’t like it, something about showing her ankles, while David was more amused by his granddaughter’s attitude and her love for everything that was strange and out of this world, just like her.

What Killian loved the most, though, were the quiet nights spent in the library near the hearth, laying on the cushions spread over the rugs, with Emma on one side and Alice on the other as they curled up next to him, his voice lulling them to sleep as he read to them. It reminded him of what he used to do for both of them in the tower, of better times when his heart was full of love, sensations he’d thought he could never feel again. Apparently, both his loves _loved_ to prove him wrong.

Sometimes, instead of reading, they practiced with swords, and Killian wanted to kiss Emma even then, as their bodies crashed one against the other, her firm curves pressed up against his, sweaty, and with too many clothes between them. Emma’s pants against his own lips, their heavy breaths mixing over their crossed swords.

Killian’s growing desire for Emma didn’t find any kind of help in the clothes she wore for their practices, leather pants hugging her figure and loose shirts – most of which belonged to him – which still adhered to her curves. It taunted him, whether he was awake or asleep next to her, still religiously lying over the covers no matter the state they were in every morning, limbs tangled together and his… _mast_ pressed against her delicious derrière or her soft stomach.

He wanted to kiss her when her brows were furrowed, her mind focused on the words she was reading as he kept getting distracted by her teeth playing with her lower lip, sucking it in between them, losing focus on the game of chess he was playing. No wonder Alice kept beating him.

He wanted to kiss her when they lay together in bed at night, Emma’s eyes closed as she talked about her day, about her training to become a good princess, which should reinforce the bond with her mother. It was, yes, but slowly. Snow was so uptight and stuck to every rule in the book, making Emma uncomfortable and ready to burst, always snapping at her mother. It was then, when she stormed out of the room that she marched towards the courtyard and promptly picked up a sword, ready to fight whoever wanted to train with her.

Although most of the time it was her father the one who practiced with Emma, Killian and Alice did, too. However, Killian’s favourite pastime when in the training yard, when he wasn’t swordfighting with Emma or his daughter – or even the King himself, was watching his daughter training with her grandfather. It was quite amusing: Alice fought following Killian’s technique, but also mirrored David’s, quickly learning what he knew, indulging the man, making him think she was almost helpless, only to suddenly change her tactic, falling back into Killian’s teachings. David always seemed to forget who Alice’s father was, apparently.

Alas, the days spent reading and training had to come to an end.

«Do we really need to do this?» Emma whined, Snow’s tongue clicking in disappointment. _Princesses don’t whine, Emma_ , her eyes seem to say, but her daughter promptly ignored her. «People already know I’ve been home for months, it’s not like-» She cut herself off, glaring at Snow. «Wait a minute, this is not some kind of subterfuge to find me a husband, is it?»

Snow gasped, however it didn’t look as if Emma was completely wrong. Killian knew the Queen didn’t like him much despite her polite façade, and while she seemed to truly adore Alice, he knew she had doubts about him. Whether those doubts concerned his past as a pirate or his feelings, Killian did not know. Was this ball perhaps a ruse, a push to force him to declare is love. While he wouldn’t put it past her, Killian knew he wasn’t Snow’s first choice when it came to a suitable husband for Emma.

«And don’t lie to me, _mother_.»

 Snow sighed. «Then I won’t. But, Emma-»

«No!» Emma interrupted her, standing from the breakfast table, her palms alight with white magic. «Hold this ball in my honour, if you so desire, but you won’t force me to marry someone I don’t love and never will. Don’t be like George.»

With those cutting words, Emma stormed off. Killian promptly followed her, glaring at the Queen. Thanks to her brilliant plan, she was threatening to set Emma back, any progress made almost lost. He wouldn’t tell her that, however: his daughter was really… persuasive, especially when it came to her mother.

Killian followed Emma, finding her in the marble gazebo in the garden, the one where Alice loved to have her tea parties. It was their own sanctuary, Alice and Emma’s, one he never invaded unless they invited him.

«Permission to come aboard, Captain?» he asked her softly but seriously, waiting for her to nod her head before climbing the three steps and nearing Emma, her forearms placed on the banister. Killian leaned with his hip against it, his eyes trained on her profile, clearly seeing her upset expression.

«Am I-» Emma gulped audibly, «am I a good mother?»

The question startled him. «Why are you asking that?»

The hint of a sad smile graced her lips. «I just… I don’t know how to be a mother, and my own mother seems to always plot against me, planning things she thinks I want or need. I don’t want to be that kind of mother to Alice, I want her to be happy, and fall in love with whoever she wants, to marry for love, to have children if she wants them, and if she doesn’t I will respect her decision, I will respect _her_.»

Killian smiled. «I think you have your answer, love.»

Emma straightened up, turning to look at him. «Why is it so easy talking to you?» She then pointed her finger at him. «And don’t answer my question with another question.»

He chuckled, taking her hand and kissing it. «I don’t have an answer for you, love,» he said, lacing their fingers together. «We just understand each other.»

«Open book.»

«Open book,» Killian confirmed before spinning her around slowly, keeping his eyes on her. He remembered very well the first time they danced together. Placing his hook on her waist, Killian pulled her closer, gently moving the first steps of a waltz.

Emma laughed softly, waving her hand before placing it on his shoulder. Out of the corner of his eye, Killian noticed the old music box appearing on the banister, the music of their first dance filling the air.

They danced for what could’ve been hours, the music never ceasing, their feet never stopping and their eyes always locked together.

Just like the first time, Emma moved the hand resting on his shoulder to caress his cheek, her thumb softly stroking the scar there. And just like the first time, Killian moved, tugging her to his chest and finally, _finally_ kissing her.

Gone were the doubts whispering in his ear, gone was the pain and mended was his heart. It had taken him time, perhaps too much, but the wound in his chest was finally healed, his mind finally at peace. Killian had felt the beginning of those changes that morning when she told him she would wait, and with time his fear had begun to fade and, in time, it definitely disappeared, allowing his heart to be filled with love once again.

He sighed against her mouth like a sailor seeing again the shores he so desperately loved after a long journey. Her soft lips were like those shores, the kiss like coming home.

Tracing the seam of her lips with the tip of his tongue, Killian asked for permission, permission to discover her mouth once again, permission to enter her heart. Without waiting for even a second to pass, Emma heeded his request, opening herself to him, one of her hand buried in his hair, desperately holding on to him in fear he might regret the kiss but ready to let go if he wished to.

Killian, however, didn’t.

He kept kissing her, tasting oranges on her lips and tongue and breathing in her scent of roses, holding her close without the fear of her abandonment darkening his thoughts.

Needing to breathe, though despising the very idea of parting from her lips, Killian pulled away slightly, their short breaths mingling. «I love you.»

Emma blinked one, two, three times, the meaning of his words slowly dawning on her as her lips curled up in the brightest and happiest smile he’d ever seen on his face, her eyes shining with tears of happiness.

«About bloody time.»

He laughed, but was stopped short by her mouth assaulting his, her body completely pressed against his, her teeth deliciously nipping at his lower lip. «I love you,» Killian repeated, the moment her lips were far enough to let him speak. He would never tire of saying those words, just how he’d never tire of kissing her.

«I love you, too,» Emma whispered looking him in the eyes, a spark of mischief shining in her bright irises.

Killian quirked a brow and had just the time to smirk at her before a cloud of smoke enveloped them and he found himself standing at the foot of their bed.

Not allowing hesitation to fill Emma’s mind, he turned the tables, letting her know he was more than ready to love her in every way, to become _hers_ once again.

Finally, Killian Jones was home.


	6. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god I’ve finally finished this. I’m actually so emotional right now. I’m so so grateful for each one of you who liked this story and stopped by to comment on it.
> 
> I have to say, when I started this story, I didn’t know I would fall in love with the idea of Alice being Emma and Killian’s daughter more than I already was. Useless polemics probably fueled that love, but just the thought of them did it already. I love them so much.
> 
> I’m sad this has come to an end but this is the ending I’ve been planning since the very beginning and I hope you like it, too.
> 
> Thank you again for every kudos, like, reblog, comment you left, it’s been a wonderful, amazing and bloody brilliant ride.
> 
> (Ah, there’s a brief mention of magical changing of ladyparts, but nothing explicit, just a few sentences. Just a warning since I bet it’s not everyone cup of tea).
> 
> As usual, come say hi on [tumblr](http://darkcolinodonorgasm.tumblr.com) ;)
> 
> Thank you ♥

To say the palace was upside down would be an understatement: it was _hell_. But it was better to not tell Emma so. It would just stress her even more, and Killian couldn’t have that. It would only make things worse.

Lately, every little thing he did could irk her, even when he wanted to help. It wasn’t her fault, not really, she just wanted everything to be perfect and she just wanted to be a _good_ mother, as if she wasn’t already. Alas, there was a silent competition going on with Snow, something Killian did understand, but always tried to sway Emma from. It wasn’t healthy, not for her, and not for her relationship with her mother.

Their scarred bond hadn’t been an easy one to mend, and after almost two years, they were still a tad wary of each other. At first, he and David had tried to speak to them, although what Emma needed was usually comfort when Snow needed to just back off and let her daughter be free to do whatever she wanted with her own life, protocol be damned.

If Emma wanted to marry a pirate, so be it, said pirate had demonstrated more than just a few times to be worthy of her and her love. Not that Killian actually waited for the Queen’s permission to get down on one knee in front of Emma in Arendelle where, thanks to Elsa, there were ice crystal fairies dancing around them, snowflakes falling and music coming from inside the castle, a waltz, more specifically. Not to mention, Killian had asked Elsa to build an ice gazebo in the snowy garden.

Surprisingly, Killian and Elsa had become fast friends, while it wasn’t as surprising that Anna and Alice spent their days chatting pretty much about _everything_. Both Emma and Killian had a soft spot for Anna, both of them knowing what it meant to grow up alone, no matter if you had people all around you, nothing mattered if your family wasn’t around.

To say Emma had been in awe of the atmosphere Elsa had created for them would be a euphemism. It had been the exact effect Killian had wanted and the exact reaction he’d hoped for. They’d danced, slowly, with one of Emma’s hands carefully enveloped in Killian’s while the other had found its way onto his back, between his deep blue velvet vest and the long leather coat, trying to steal his body heat.

And of course, he’d not been able to wait until the fireworks started to propose, because Emma’s sneaky hand had found the ring hidden in one of his coat’s hidden inside pockets. There’d always been a little pirate in her.

So Killian had chuckled, kissing Emma senseless as he managed to gently pry her fingers out from inside his coat, taking the ring himself and dropping down onto one knee. Emma was nodding even before he even spoke a word.

The wedding had been a huge affair, and more than once Snow had tried to step into the preparations and force her opinion on the matter, but they’d managed to dissuade her and have the wedding of their dreams – or, rather, the wedding neither of them had ever dreamed they would have.

It had been wonderful, bloody protocol demanding they had the wedding in the castle – which they did, of course, _after_ the late night ceremony on the Jolly, only the crew, Emma’s parents and Alice the only witnesses out at sea, not too far away from the castle, just enough for Alice to fill the space around the ship with floating lights.

They had exchanged their vows in front of their family, Emma’s dress a simple white dress with jewelled golden designs, lace sleeves that ended just past her elbows, her curls let loose down her back, a flowers crown Alice had handcrafted on her head. From his part, Killian had decided to damn the protocol, he would wear what they wanted him to the next morning, and wore his best pirate garments: comfortable leather pants, a black shirt and his signature – and favourite – red and black vest. His long coat completed his attire, at his lobe, instead of his usual earrings, was a stone Alice had picked up in Wonderland, one that matched the one mounted into Emma’s necklace and one of Alice’s rings. It shouldn’t have surprised Killian that his daughter had somehow managed to find the Eye of the Storm, the same gem that had allowed him and Liam to enrol into the Navy, the same gem Killian had stolen and thrown into the sea once again after he’d stained it with the corrupted King’s blood.

After being pronounced man and wife by David himself, they had danced almost all night long, coming back to the castle in time to sleep – or, in case of the two newlyweds, in time for more enjoyable activities _and_ a bit of rest, they couldn’t show up at their wedding completely unrested – Emma’s dress a bit more covering and formal and Killian in a dark navy royal coat, dark pants and black boots, his cutlass at his side. He got to keep the hook, which had caused another fight with Snow, only the knowledge that he would show up with it on anyway put a damper on her plans. Besides, it wasn’t as if other royals didn’t know about who he was, they’d never lied, and though there’d been a scandal, after meeting Killian, many rulers had been fascinated with him, his manner and, particularly, his mind. He was a great strategist, his knowledge of the military forces and tactics along with his shrewdness and ability with weapons were admired. _Killian_ was admired: after a while, he wasn’t the man behind the moniker anymore, he was just the man he’d always wanted to be. Not that he needed to be anything more when he had Emma and Alice’s love.

But they weren’t the only one to have Alice’s love.

It hadn’t surprised him that her love was a lady love, nor Emma, who always supported Alice in her every decision. Snow, however, had fainted. David hadn’t, but it had been a close thing.

Council members had been opposed to Alice and Robin’s union, which had Emma stay up all night long to search through al the laws of the kingdom for a law that prohibited a marriage between people of the same sex. Killian helped her, unbeknownst to Alice and Robin, and the following morning, just after dawn, _all_ the advisors had a crow carrying them a copy of the article of Misthaven’s law that allowed rulers to marry a person of the same sex, adding at the end that the fact that it never happened didn’t change the law.

It didn’t stop there.

If there was something advisors just _loved_ to stress Emma with was _succession_. Although their relationship had been mended and kept fortifying, having another child was something they usually avoided talking about, with Emma taking precautions so she wouldn’t get pregnant again, the fear of some other evil witch shoving up and taking away her son or daughter again too strong. It wasn’t completely irrational, Killian still feared Gothel would show up and ruin their happy ending even though they know she was dead. Even after all this time, Emma would wake up screaming for Killian or Alice or her parents, even, and Killian would still wake up with his heart pounding in fear Emma wouldn’t be anywhere to be found.

They’d talked about succession with Alice, Emma wanting her daughter to be Queen one day if she so desired – which Alice did, actually, probably due to her grandmother’s snarky remarks about her being a “free spirit”. Alice didn’t like it at all.

However, Alice loving Robin had ruffled feathers, the council wanting a decree stating Alice would abdicate in favour of another of Emma’s children, otherwise the throne would go to the next in line of succession after her. That had Emma hole up in the library for almost a whole week, sending out a pigeon to Elsa, searching for assistance in spells which… managed to, uh, change a lady’s reproductive organs and after Killian had stumbled upon the three girls discussing it in the library he’d not been able to look his daughter and Robin in the eyes for almost a month, the tips of his ears constantly as red as tomatoes.

The only answer the council got was a declaration signed by Alice that she would one day have children – well, she, or Robin, or both – along with an explanation of how the spell worked. The advisors weren’t still able to look Alice nor Robin in the eyes either. Gods, Killian loved his wife’s brilliant mind.

It was around that time that Alice started to eye Emma suspiciously, always making sure she ate enough and healthy, dealing with the advisors herself to reduce Emma’s stress.

In all honesty, it didn’t become clear to Killian until Emma started to sleep more than usual and retch whatever she ate every morning a couple of months later. And every afternoon. And even in the evening.

Killian had not asked confirmation to Alice: although she totally knew, it still was a discussion he and Emma needed to face alone. They were in bed, Emma’s back pressed against Killian’s chest under an insane amount of blankets, treating it as if it was an illness that affected her stomach. _Oh, it affects her stomach alright_.

«Emma,» Killian had started, hesitantly, «I know you are meticulously careful with your tea, but… Love, are you sure you took it every day while researching for, ah, uh…» If there was something that flustered Killian, it was talking about his daughter’s sexual life.

«What do you mean?»

Not knowing how to continue the discussion, he’d just slipped his hand down her arm and over her stomach, spreading his fingers over the shirt she was wearing, a shirt that belonged to him.

Emma had stiffened the moment she’d realized what he meant, something she’d actually considered, tears spilling easily from her eyes. «I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry,» she’d started to stammer, trying to pull herself away from him, at which Killian had tightened his arms around her and soothed her whispering words of love, saying it wasn’t her fault at all and that he wasn’t angry. How could he be?

«I love you so much, Emma, and I know we haven’t exactly talked about this, but I can’t help but loving the life that’s growing inside you already.» Killian had dried off her tears, kissing every inch of her face until she had calmed down. «Unless you don’t want it.»

A sharp intake of breath had her shaking her head. «No, Killian, I-I could _never_.» Pushing herself onto her knees between his legs and cupping his face reverently, she’d smiled timidly. They knew they could tell each other anything, it was how they overcame everything, by sticking together and communicating. «I wanted to wait until after the wedding, I wanted this to be about _Alice_ , and perhaps it wouldn’t scare me as much as it does now and I would’ve tried to convince you because I thought _you_ didn’t want to, but if, well, I think Alice keeps confirming this more and more every day, but, well, I want another child with you. A second chance.»

And a second chance they got. And, well, a third one.

«Finally! Finally I can break the silence about my little brothers.»

Alice’s words had made Emma spit out the ginger tea she was drinking.

Apparently, just as she knew about many other things for reasons no one could explain, Alice had known about Emma’s pregnancy all along, and not only about that, but that she was also expecting twins, two _boys_.

Which led to today, the royal wedding day.

Emma was six months pregnant, her back hurting and her feet swollen, but she kept carrying on, ignoring the pain and instructing maids and servants around, refreshing the flowers with her magic. At least they hadn’t exploded. This time. The twins made her magic a little bit wonky.

Killian lifted his head as she entered Alice’s bedchambers, or rather, marched inside, cheeks flushed but eyes sparkling and a bright smile on her lips. She stopped dead in her tracks, eyes filling with tears at the sight of Alice in her wedding gown. It wasn’t a conventional one, and that was why they all loved it: it was so Alice. Besides, it had been the Hatter to design it, a wonderful piece of work with a turquoise corset and a skirt made out of blue, red and white tulle. It would be a shock for the guests, but Emma had stopped to care about them a long time ago, while Killian never had. Pirate.

«You are… wonderful,» Emma breathed, hugging her daughter tightly, cupping the back of her head.

«Thank you, Mama,» Alice murmured, hugging her back. Just like Emma had on her unofficial wedding, Alice had decided to keep her hair loose in soft blonde waves.

Emma bit her lip. «I shouldn’t- I don’t know why I’m so emotional, it’s probably because sometimes I think of you as a thirteen-year-old young girl and now you’re getting married.» Hormones, that would totally be blamed on the hormones. Killian shared the sentiment, though, he too felt emotional at the thought of his daughter marrying.

Alice laughed softly at that, kissing her mother on the cheek. «That’s not crazy at all, Mama,» she reassured her, wrapping her in a tighter hug, careful of her sore breasts and bump. She chuckled when her fingers brushed Emma’s stomach. «They’re a bit too happy, aren’t they?»

Killian quirked a brow, finishing adjusting his turquoise vest, another of Jefferson’s creations, along with Emma’s gown, a high waisted light blue silk dress with white tulle sleeves and deep red roses wrapping just under her breasts to match the ones at the base of Alice’s corset. Jefferson had also managed to provide Emma with a wonderful pair of flat and comfortable shoes. She felt in heaven.

«Are you alright, darling?» he asked, stepping towards them and placing a calming had onto Emma’s stomach. In the same moment, one of the babes gave a kick, making Emma moan.

«I might have to cut off your hand and take it pressed there until they’re born. How is it that every time you touch my belly they bloody salute you and then go back to sleep or whatever?»

Killian chuckled, pressing his lips to the apple of her cheek. «I’d gladly cut it off myself if it served to ease your pain.»

«Such a gentleman,» Emma mused, relaxing against him, the hand that hadn’t circled his waist occupied to twirl one of Alice’s locks. «Robin wanted me to tell you she loves you and to give you this.» From one of the hidden pockets Jefferson had stitched into the skirt, Emma produced a letter she handed to Alice with a wide smile.

Her daughter squealed, grabbing the letter and, with a last kiss to her mother’s cheek, she sat down on the bed to read her love’s letter.

Deciding to give their daughter a few moments of privacy, Killian led Emma to the rocking chair near the balcony, the breeze coming in from the open windows carrying in a calming scent, something that was incredibly better than the ones swirling around in the kitchens.

Once sat down, Emma groaned, massaging her swollen belly and earning a kick from one of the kids. «I swear, if they are not good swimmers I’m going to drown you,» she hissed, making an effort to glare at Killian.

He had to bit his lips to stop himself from chuckling. However, he couldn’t stop his eyebrows from wiggling. «Of course, love, drown their father, then I guess they will never become such good swimmers.»

Emma groaned, blushing. «You will never make me forget I almost drowned the first time I tried to swim, won’t you?»

It had been shortly after their reunion, when Emma wanted to try as many things as she could that she’d missed while growing up, like swimming. They’d brought the Jolly out, just the two of them, and Emma had just divested to her undergarments in front of him and jumped into the chilly waters. Careless but free, that was how Emma was, and she didn’t care that she’d been about to drown, she was _free_. And in need of Killian’s help, but still free.

«Never, my love,» he smiled, kissing the top of her head, careful not to touch the tiara, the family heirloom one her mother had given her for her wedding. Alice had decided on a flower crown instead, so Emma had Jefferson bring some rare flowers from Wonderland, which Emma had intertwined with some of Elsa’s ice flowers and middlemists, creating a flower crown just Alice had done for her.

Emma smiled, patting his cheek lovingly, then caressing his scruff. «What about you, my love? Are you ready to give your daughter away with me _and_ celebrate her wedding?»

Being the untraditional family they were, both Robin and Alice had asked Killian, mostly as Captain than Prince Consort, to marry them. Killian might have cried that night. He definitely did.

Killian kneeled next to her. «I’m completely, utterly terrified, yet…»

«Yet you wouldn’t want anyone else to officiate it,» Emma concluded for him, carding her fingers through his silky locks. His hair was a bit too long, now she didn’t complain, she liked it that way: not only it gave him a wilder appearance, but, well, during sex, she just _loved_ to pull on it. At the thought, she felt warmth rush through her veins. Though she could blame tears on her hormones, being so weirdly attracted to her husband wasn’t a side effect of her pregnancy.

Before Killian could tease her about her flushed cheeks and that glint in her eyes, Alice squealed in delight, jumping off the bed and twirling around, her laugh causing her parents to look at her and laugh too.

«I’m getting married to the most wonderful, amazing, bloody brilliant person in all the realms!» Alice squealed, her sparkling blue eyes falling on them. «Aside from you two, of course. Well, you four.»

Killian and Emma laughed softly at her excitement, neither of them believing their daughter was about to get married. Oh, how they loved her, more than they could put into words.

After a quick glance to the pocket watch buried in the other pocket – gods, Emma _loved_ that dress, she might even commission Jefferson a whole wardrobe _and_ ask him to provide her with more shoes like the ones she was wearing – Emma hurried Alice to the vanity, brushing her hair again, securing then the flower crown upon her head. There was no veil, neither for Robin, there were just things they both loved. Along, unfortunately, with emissaries of several different kingdoms, but they could easily be ignored. Snow would care about that, along with David. Well, David would basically take care of Snow, lest she said something she would regret.

«Are you ready, Starfish?» Killian asked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Alice rolled her eyes, smiling. «Of course I am, Papa. I’m more than ready, I can’t wait to marry Robin. I love her, just you love Mama. Getting married to her today is something I’ve dreamed for a long time. And thanks to you and Mama, everything is going to be perfect. And Aunt Elsa and Jefferson, of course, but you understand what I mean. You always have.»

Killian nodded, his heart full at his daughter’s words. Just like her mother, Alice wasn’t exactly good with words, her ramblings probably a result of her time in Wonderland, but he didn’t care, it was so Alice he couldn’t help but love that aspect of her because he couldn’t help but love _every_ aspect of her.

With a kiss on her forehead – and more kisses peppered across her face, like he did when she was just a little girl – Killian offered her his arm, followed by Emma.

Together, the three of them walked towards the garden where a new gazebo had been erected, wildflowers wrapping around the white marble columns. Robin was already there, her auburn hair styled into a braid, a matching flower crown on her head.

After meeting her, Emma had somehow adopted Robin, treating her like a daughter and providing her with everything she needed. Despite the initial disappointment, Snow had started to have a soft spot for Robin, too, bonding over their ability with a bow and arrows. Secretly, Emma was glad her mother had come to approve about their love. It probably helped that her Aunt Red had found a lady love for herself in Oz.

Jefferson had designed a bit more sober gown for Robin, long hanging sleeves with a low neckline that showed off her shoulders, embellished with golden embroideries on the bodice and along the hem of the skirt. Emma knew that, beneath it, she was wearing her trusted boots, somehow matching Alice’s booties, inspired by the ones people wear in the other Alice’s realm.

And so they gave her away, Emma crying almost the whole time as she watched her husband marry their daughter and her true love, her heart on the point of bursting as she witnessed the two young girls express their love to one another, reciting vows they would honour for as long as they both would live.

Later, very much later, well into the night, Emma was swaying in Killian’s arms, the belly bump between them making it a bit difficult for Emma to rest her cheek onto Killian’s shoulder but they found a way, his own cheek pressed on her head.

They were watching Alice and Robin twirl around the dancefloor, laughing and kissing and rushing to where the cake was to steal a few bites before sneaking between the guests and keeping dancing. Knowing them, they would probably go on all night long.

«You know, my mother might be incredibly uptight and hell to deal with, but I’m glad she used to sing to me,» Emma whispered, tilting her head back to look Killian in the eyes. «You granted my prayer, Killian, especially when I wasn’t there for the two of you. You were my eyes even though I could see her, you helped her to be wise and grow into the woman she is now, and what a wonderful, amazing and bloody brilliant woman she’s become. I’m happy she found your light and held it in her heart even when you were cursed, because it’s thanks to you that she kept the darkness away, it’s thanks to you that she knows what is right and what is wrong. It’s thanks to you that she found us, it was your good heart, your _grace_ that led her to the place where she would be safe, that led her _home_.»

Killian shook his head, blue eyes sparkling with unshed tears. «No, my love, you led her home, too. You were there for her, too, you’ve always been there.»

Emma sniffled. «You don’t know how to take a compliment, don’t you?» She wanted to sound upset, but she wasn’t. On the contrary, she impossibly fell in love with him even more. «You are impossible.»

«And you love me for it,» he murmured, dipping her slightly and capturing her lips with his. Deep down, Killian knew what Emma meant, and there was no way for him to tell her – aye, he was completely, utterly speechless – how he felt. So he showed her, pouring into the kiss all the love he felt for her, drowning in it, drowning in _her_.

Months later, when Henry and Liam were born, Killian would still sing his mother’s lullaby to them, the fond memory of her voice warming his heart whenever he did so, and Emma would pray for them to always, _always_ have their father by their side, to grow loved and find the light inside him, the light that would always guide to their safe place: home.


End file.
